looking for it (finding heaven)
by Ittlebitz
Summary: Everyone knows from birth if they're Dom or sub. Dom Derek Hale is determined not to take on a sub after a deadly mistake in his past. His uncle Peter has other ideas. He arranges for Derek to claim Stiles Stilinski, much to his initial dismay. But as soon as he sets eyes on the sassy sub, all his Dominant urges flare to life and his wolf demands that he claim what belongs to him.
1. Chapter 1

This all started because Sam(idareu2bme) is a dirty enabler...ummmm, I mean, my _bestie_ and she tagged me in a tumblr post with this prompt:

_ok, ok, ok… WHAT ABOUT a dom/sub universe, h/c fic where Stiles is a strong-willed, smart-mouthed, bratty sub… one of dom Peter's collection of subs, actually… and Derek is this really crumby dom…Peter gives Stiles to Derek or something cuz Derek really shoudl have a sub… even if he is a shitty dom, he's a Hale and Hales are doms of high prestige.. or.. yeah.. anyway… and Stiles is like super good for Derek cuz he just pushes and pushes… and Derek doesn't trust himself, is traumatized by something… but Stiles brings out the true dom in him, the protector and lover… and it is just lovely…_

_so yeah… can we have that?_

Then she combined it with puppy dog eyes on the messenger, and now this fic is born.

I have been threatening to write a Sterek fic for some time now, so I guess she got tired of my flipflopping and decided to issue a challenge she knew I couldn't resist. I hope everyone enjoys my first effort at writing Teen Wolf!

Many thanks to Sies for being an incredible beta and to Shelley(SugaKane01) for tolerating all my flails and ideas cluttering up her ask!

Fic name from the song by Jann Arden

_**crossposted from AO3 by request**_

* * *

"But I already told you, I don't want one!"

Derek Hale angrily followed his uncle, Peter Hale, as he strode briskly into his office. He could practically hear the eye roll as Peter heaved out a long-suffering sigh. Peter walked over to his desk and sat in the plush high back chair, leaning back to eye Derek as he moved to stand stiffly in front of him. Derek's jaw was tense and his hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides. He knew his eyes glowed a faint blue as testimony to his agitated state, and that his expression was most likely mutinous. Peter sighed again, then fixed his steady gaze on Derek, allowing a brief tinge of red to enter his eyes.

"Derek, we've been over this multiple times and I'm done explaining. It's time you put the past to rest and took on a sub. You're a Hale, after all. You carry the markers of dominance and are part of a long and prestigious line. It's what is expected of you. I've been extremely lenient with you, but it's past time for you to step up and become a proper Dom. A submissive will bring out your natural dominance, will anchor your wolf and make you stronger. As the next Alpha, Laura is training to take over the family business when I retire, but you are expected to be on the Board as her Beta, there to help her and take charge should it for some reason become necessary. Now that you're back from New York, I can no longer in good conscience allow you to founder along aimlessly. What would your mother say to me? In fact, what would she say to you?" Peter questioned him, knowing exactly which buttons to hit to get to his point across.

Derek bowed his head and closed his eyes, swallowing thickly. "She would expect me to do my duty," he ground out.

As loathe as Derek was to admit it, Peter was right. His mother would have been exceedingly disappointed that he hadn't claimed a proper sub by now. Like her, he was a born wolf and a Dominant. Markers in the blood were checked at birth in order to determine whether a child was a Dominant or a submissive. The natural instincts were latent until the teenage years when maturity kick-started them and the urges began to manifest. At that time, they received their tattoo mark of something symbolic to them on their left hand that indicated they were able to enter into a claim. A special ink was used that reacted to the blood markers to take on the signifying color; black for submissives and red for Dominants.

Children were raised with the expectation that they would enter their first claim after being granted their tattoo. Being in a claim would stabilize them during the crucial growth period where hormones ran rampant. The Dominant would have an outlet for the powerful urges of control and possessiveness, and the submissive would get the domination and protection they craved and needed. In the case of the large werewolf population, the wolf prowled especially close to the surface during this time as well, eager to dominate or submit. It was especially crucial to them to be in a claim so as to not be overwhelmed completely.

Most teenage couples were joined in provisional claims; short-term claims that were easily terminated but with the option to make it permanent if both parties desired. Once they reached the majority age of eighteen, Dominants and submissives were free to experiment as much as they pleased, both in and out of claims, though a claim was both preferred and encouraged. But Derek's mother, Talia, had claimed his father, Donovan, at the age of seventeen, and they had been extremely happy together. They had actually developed the Mate Bond, where the inner wolf chose its life mate, a rare occurrence in such an early claim. As soon as they were legally able, they made their claim permanent, rather than parting ways later to join with another.

It was practically unheard of for a Dominant Derek's age to not have claimed a permanent submissive, or to at least be in a provisional claim. While hardly ancient at 24, most Dominants of similar age were settling down and collaring their submissive.

Derek sighed inwardly. More than anything, he wanted a relationship like his parents had. One filled with the deep love and trust between a Dominant and their chosen submissive. A Mate Bond. But he knew he didn't deserve it. If it weren't for his own blind stupidity, his mother would be here now, would have been there to guide him through all this. Peter's voice cut into his deep reverie and Derek looked up, blinking to make himself focus on his uncle.

"I'm glad you see it my way," Peter rumbled with satisfaction. "I've taken the liberty of choosing a sub for you, a student from the Academy. One of our best academically, top of the submissive class. I believe you'll find it to be a good match for you."

Derek tensed and fought back a growl. "On top of being forced to take on a sub I don't want, I don't even get to choose my own?"

Peter shrugged nonchalantly, looking almost bored. "To be frank, I didn't trust you to do so. I am of the belief that you would agree to this just to get me off your back, then drag your feet as you have continually done in the past. You've turned down easily half a dozen acceptable subs over the last year alone, Derek. And don't for a minute think I don't know about those clubs you've been partaking of where any sub will allow you to dominate them however you want so long as the price is right. It's a proven fact that those places help take the edge off your dominance so you can keep your head clear but are a poor substitute to having your own claimed submissive."

Derek looked away and felt his cheeks heat as he flushed under his uncle's cool scrutiny. He had thought he was being discreet in the Sub Clubs, but he should have known Peter was aware of his dealings there. The Alpha had eyes and ears everywhere, after all. Even in New York. He tried again, "Uncle, I swear I'll do this, I'll select a submissive to claim. Just let me choose my own."

Peter shook his head. "I'm afraid the matter is quite settled, Derek. The sub I've chosen for you will make you the powerful Dominant you've always been meant to be." His eyes grew colder. "And no offense, but the last time you selected your own..._submissive_, it ended up being a disaster, didn't it?"

Derek glared at his uncle stonily, careful not to give away the grief, humiliation and guilt flooding him. Disaster might be the understatement of the century. Derek knew that, but having Peter throw it in his face was painfully demeaning. "I wouldn't make that mistake again."

"Of course you wouldn't," Peter agreed coolly, "but that fact of the matter is I won't let you. I believe you'll be rather pleased with my selection."

Derek eyed his uncle warily; he knew him far too well to believe this was just a matter of selecting a submissive. "How do _you_ know I'll be pleased? There's something more to this. What's in it for you?" he asked, voice laced with suspicion.

To his surprise, Peter laughed, actually sounding pleased. "There's the Hale in you. I may begin to have new hope for you after all. Very well. The submissive I have arranged for you to take is the only child of the Sheriff of Beacon Hills. It's an excellent match, beneficial to all. You will get a submissive worthy of belonging to a Hale, and I will have an extremely valuable connection to the Sheriff himself. Such an alliance can only be an advantage, especially in regards to hunters." His blue eyes hardened to an icy steel. "The Argents in particular, as you well know. They have kept a relatively low profile after the scandal, but I don't trust them one bit."

Derek growled low in the back of his throat, though he wasn't sure if it was in response to Peter's reasoning or mention of the Argents. He opted to ignore the pointed reference to the hunters and concentrate on the arranged claim. "That's what this is about? You're making me take a submissive so you can have an in with the Sheriff? And he _agreed_ to this whole crazy scheme? You've got to be kidding me!" he fumed, finding himself feeling outraged on not only on his behalf, but that of the mystery submissive as well. "No, I don't want to. Let Laura take on the sheriff's kid. Or you do it, I don't care."

Peter closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, huffing in annoyance as his irritation increased. "Laura is perfectly happy with Boyd, Derek, and you know that," he said slowly, enunciating as if Derek were having trouble understanding basic English. "She's planning on collaring him soon and she doesn't want a secondary submissive. And I already have Erica and Isaac; I don't want or need a third submissive and would only take on another in very extreme circumstances. Quite frankly, I'm surprised at you. This is truly an excellent opportunity. You are getting a rare chance that many Doms would love to have. Getting a highly connected submissive that is well trained, an honor student at the Academy, and perfectly ripe for you to teach exactly how to serve and please you."

"But I still don't-" Derek began to argue, then flinched as his uncle's temper snapped.

"_ENOUGH!_" snarled Peter, his eyes flashing full red and his fangs elongating, voice taking on the deep timbre of the Alpha voice. "The matter is settled and you'll do as you're told, Derek. And that's the Alpha telling you that."

Derek grudgingly backed down. He knew that meant the decision was final, coming from Peter as the Alpha and not as his uncle. Dom or not, Peter would brook no more opposition from him, at least not without harsh consequences. He reluctantly ducked his head and tilted it to the side slightly to bare his neck as he attempted to appease his uncle with the show of respect.

Peter sighed aloud as he reverted back to human form and stood up, walking around his ornate desk. "Now, Derek, let's not quarrel. You and Laura are all I have left and whether you believe it or not, I only want what's best for you. Come along and see the submissive I've selected for you."

The hallway outside Peter's office led to another hallway where a large two way mirror gave access to view the common area for the submissive students to gather and mingle with the Dominant ones under close supervision. The Hale Academy for Dominants and Submissives was a prestigious and highly accredited private school for parents to enroll their children. Students were thoroughly trained in the ways that would be required of them in their future in a safe and controlled environment that ensured no Dominant got carried away and acted out of bounds and no submissive was taken advantage of. Submissives were taught the ways to show proper submission and to please the Dominant that would one day claim them permanently. Dominants were taught things such as proper dominance and aftercare techniques with strict attention to building respect and trust in their claim. They were all educated in the various aspects of their future claims, including such things as contracts, hard and soft limits, safewords and using them correctly, awards and punishments, the significance of a permanent claim, and collaring of the submissive.

To abuse a submissive was anathema to society. They were to be cared for, coddled, pampered and punished, and treated with the utmost affection and respect. A Dom that mistreated a submissive would be shunned and ostracized, unable to claim a submissive since none would have them after such information became public knowledge. Only the very basest and lowest of Sub Clubs would even consider allowing such a Dom entry, and even then they would pay dearly for the necessity of acting on the dominant urges coursing through them.

Derek and Peter looked through the mirror at the large gathering of students inside, able to observe without being seen themselves. Peter scanned the crowd for a moment, lips pursed in concentration before smiling as he found who he was looking for.

"Ah, yes. There, at the table in the center of the room. Sitting between the lovely redhead, Lydia Martin, and my Erica," Peter said, motioning with his head.

Derek looked toward the mentioned area, looking for the familiar golden curls of his uncle's female submissive, whom he had met recently when he returned to Beacon Hills. When he found her and saw who Peter was referring to, it took all of his self control not to visibly startle.

"You got me a boy submissive?" he asked in disbelief, turning to stare at Peter, who looked wordlessly back at him, a single, unimpressed eyebrow raised in answer. He remembered in a wave of hot humiliation that Peter knew he had been going to the Sub Clubs and obviously knew the most minute of details all the way down to his choice of submissive. He clenched his jaw and turned back to the window silently to look again at the boy Peter had arranged for him.

The boy was laughing at something another dark haired boy sitting at the same table was saying. His face was open and delighted, and even from a distance Derek could see his warm brown eyes were framed with luscious lashes. He had a lush mouth that bordered on obscene; perfect pink lips that could no doubt pout and beg prettily or wrap around a cock in sinful fashion. His hair was short but the perfect length for tangling hands in and tugging on. The hands he gestured wildly with as he spoke were imminently capable and strong looking with long, graceful fingers. He had a lean build, solid and muscular, but not overly so. He was wretchedly, stupidly perfect.

Derek hated him.

"Come along, then," said Peter as he walked to the administrator's entrance to the common area. He opened the door and stepped into the crowded room, nodding in acknowledgement of a greeting from one of the teachers closely chaperoning the gathered teenagers. Once Derek had joined him, Peter sauntered to the table he had indicated to Derek. Erica noticed them first and gave Peter a devastating smile as she slid from her seat to drop to her knees and tilt her head to one side, baring her throat in obeisance.

"Alpha," she cooed breathily, eyes fluttering shut as Peter reached out to stroke her curls fondly before settling his hand on her neck. "Isaac went to the library. He wanted to use free time to research more for his project."

"Thank you, my darling. Such a good girl, and kneeling so prettily for me." Peter smiled at her as she nuzzled into his hand. He then raised his eyes to the rest of the teenagers at the table.

The dark haired submissive boy grinned mischievously up at them. "O, Alpha, my Alpha!" he greeted cheekily before dropping his gaze back down to the table. The other boy sitting with them glanced quickly at him in stunned surprise. Derek held his breath for a moment as well, wondering both how Peter would react to such an irreverent salutation from a submissive and what he could possibly be thinking, saying this was the ideal submissive for _him_. To his surprise, Peter chuckled at the same moment the red haired girl sitting next to the boy placed her left hand firmly on the back of his neck.

"Manners, Stiles!" she admonished in exasperation, though her tone was a fond one. She looked up and met Peter's eye, nodding once. "Headmaster."

Peter returned her nod pleasantly. "Miss Martin." He turned to Derek. "This is Lydia Martin. Top of her class and one of the most promising Dommes we have ever seen at Hale Academy. She already has not one but two Submissives in her care and they are thriving. We couldn't be more pleased." He turned back to the table. "My nephew, Dom Derek Hale, back from New York."

Derek nodded coolly to the stunning girl who was preening under the high praise. For some reason he couldn't name, he felt his hackles rising that her red tattooed hand remained on the boy's—_his boy's_—neck. That she was no longer correcting him and was now rubbing his neck absently with a delicately manicured thumb made it even more irritating, especially when his eyes fluttered shut in obvious appreciation of being petted. Having reprimanded him, she had no reason to keep touching him since he didn't belong to her. None of Derek's feelings of possessiveness were making sense to him in the slightest, seeing as they weren't even in a claim yet. The boy didn't even know he was in the presence of his Dom, which didn't seem to deter Derek's dominant instincts in the slightest. He suddenly very much wanted this boy on his knees in front of him, kneeling in perfect submission, ready and eager to tend to the needs and commands of his Dom. His eyes flickered down to the black tattoo on the boy's left hand and he found himself wanting to take that hand in his own to look at it more closely, find out what it was and what made it significant. Then maybe strip him down and inspect every inch of him, since he now belonged to Derek.

God damn it.

"As you see," Peter continued, seemingly unaware of Derek's inner turmoil, "she also is invaluable in keeping her friends under control when needed. Isn't that correct, Mr. Stilinski?"

The boy grinned again, still looking down respectfully. "Yes, Sir," he said, sounding cheerfully unrepentant.

Peter gave Derek a smirk. "The young scamp Miss Martin is keeping in check is Stiles Stilinski. A gifted Submissive, though he may not always act it."

"What kind of a name is Stiles?" Derek blurted out without meaning to.

The boy's eyes flew up to his for a brief moment before quickly returning down. He tensed noticeably and, much to Derek's displeasure, Lydia's soothing motions on his neck quickly became more purposeful. "It's my name. What I want to be called." Lydia made a small noise of admonition. "Sir," he quickly added.

Peter stepped in smoothly. "His father has informed us that this is the name of preference, Derek," he interjected, his gaze warning Derek not to push at the moment.

Of course he was right, Derek thought irritably. All these details would be known to him soon enough when they met with Stiles and his father to begin the claim. Derek fidgeted slightly where he stood. It had been a long time since he had last been to a Sub Club and his dominant instincts were close to going haywire. His wolf stirred restlessly just under the surface of his skin, as if it already knew he was so close to what was his, even though Stiles obviously had no idea. He couldn't help taking a deep inconspicuous breath, although he knew he wouldn't be able to pick Stiles' scent out of the large crowd.

Not yet, anyway.

Peter gave him a shrewd smirk as he went back to introductions. "The quiet lad on the other side of Miss Martin is Danny Mahealani, one of her submissives." He glanced around the room and turned back to the table. "But you appear to be missing some of your normal group. Where is Mr. Whittemore? And Mr. McCall?"

"Jackson is meeting with Dom Finstock. He's been named captain of the submissive's lacrosse team," Lydia replied. From the pride obvious in her voice, Derek guessed that Jackson must be her second submissive.

"And Scott is with his Domme. I think she's punishing him for getting in trouble in Dom Harris' class," mumbled Stiles mournfully. "I guess him putting us in corner time wasn't enough punishment."

"Now, Stiles, Allison is a good Domme. She loves Scott. That's why she corrects him when he does wrong," stated Lydia matter of factly. "She wants him to be the best he can be and he wants to please her. If she didn't care she wouldn't bother, and then Scott would suffer. And I'm sure your father will deal with you as he sees fit when you get home." She squeezed Stiles' neck comfortingly when he winced and groaned softly.

The bare whisper of sound made the hairs on Derek's neck stand up, putting him even more on edge. He nearly growled, both at the notion that any Dom other than himself would be punishing his submissive, father or not, and the fact that Lydia was _still touching his boy._

Peter slanted him a warning look. "Yes, well, we must be on our way. On your feet, pet," Peter said to Erica, stepping back as she gracefully rose from her kneeling position. He cupped her face for a brief moment, brushing a thumb along her cheekbone affectionately before indicating that she return to her seat. As she resumed her place next to Stiles, Peter addressed him. "And I do believe we will actually have the pleasure of your company this evening, Mr. Stilinski, as we will be coming to your home to meet with your father for a business dinner. Do try to be on your best behavior." With that, he turned to leave. Derek gave Stiles one last glance before turning to follow him.

They returned to Peter's office in silence. When they reached the door, Derek met his uncle's knowing grin.

"Well?" Peter asked, as if there were actually any question.

_Smug bastard_, Derek thought irately. He nodded his head once. "I'll take him."

"Excellent," chuckled Peter.

* * *

Back in the common room, Danny breathed out on a quick exhale. "_That_ was strange. Why would the Headmaster himself come here to talk to us? What do you think it was about, Mistress?"

Lydia pursed her lips thoughtfully as she idly stroked the leather cuff Danny wore on his wrist that indicated he was in a claim. It was identical to the cuff Jackson wore and matched the cuff she wore on her own wrist. "I don't really know. I suppose he's showing the prodigal nephew around now that he's finally returned. Guess he finally decided to heed the call of duty."

Stiles glanced at her curiously. "Returned from where?"

"You don't remember? It was a huge scandal a few years ago." Lydia frowned as she tried to remember all the details. "Something about Derek and an older woman he was involved with, but it wasn't a claim since he hadn't reached tattooing yet." She nodded at the scandalized gasps from the submissives around her.

Claims before tattooing occurred were forbidden, and any sexual involvement prior to it was highly taboo. Despite knowing from birth what one would be when they grew up, maturity had to be reached before legally entering into a claim.

"Anyway," Lydia continued as she casually tossed her hair over her shoulder, "I don't remember all the details exactly, except the crazy bitch burned down his house. It turned out she was some sort of extremist hunter that hated werewolves. Killed most of his family, including his parents. He and his older sister Laura were the only survivors other than the Headmaster, since they weren't home at the time." She frowned again. "There was something more to it, but I can't put my finger on it right now. Derek and Laura went to New York for a time, but Laura came back months ago. Derek just now finally decided to make an appearance."

"That freakin' sucks about his family," Stiles said, feeling a sudden sense of empathy with the mysterious Derek Hale. "Losing my mom was bad enough. If I had lost both my parents I don't know what I would have done.

"The Alpha's submissive, his mate, was killed, too," chimed in Erica. "He doesn't talk about her much, but she was pregnant when it happened. Isaac and I know better than to bring it up."

"Doesn't that bother you at all?" asked Stiles doubtfully, gesturing with one hand. "Because to tell you the truth, I don't know if I could really submit to a Dom that loved someone else. I'd be worried I was always being compared unfavorably to someone who was always better. That I was competing with a ghost. I mean, I guess I would do what I had to, to honor my part of the claim, if I would even agree to it in the first place. I think at the very least it would be really hard getting to subspace. How could you trust that Dom to have your best interests at heart?"

Erica smiled at him. "The Alpha is very good to us; I couldn't ask for better. My wolf likes that my Dom is so strong and such a good provider. My parents were grateful when he was willing to claim me and give me the bite to cure my epilepsy and give me the chance to truly live. And he did the same for Isaac when it turned out he was being mistreated by his father. The Alpha made us better, gives us the best of care. He's firm but fair, and really affectionate with us. Like, he honestly denies us nothing, and money is never an object to him. You should see our playroom. And it doesn't hurt that he's incredibly handsome, either." Her smile turned slightly wicked. "When I'm a really good girl and he's pleased with me, he sometimes lets me play with Isaac."

Danny's eyes widened and Stiles snorted in disbelief. "What, he actually lets you _dominate_ his other submissive? Isn't that sort of weird?"

"I wouldn't call it dominating, really. I'm not a Dom. But he tells me what to do and I do it. I guess kind of like a director for a movie. It's really fun for me and Isaac likes it, too. I think the Alpha sometimes enjoys watching us play together as much as he enjoys playing with us himself," Erica grinned impishly as she pulled an apple out of her tote bag. She bit into it, somehow making the simple act look seductive.

"Yes, I imagine he would," hummed Lydia thoughtfully as she looked at Danny's suddenly pink cheeks. She lovingly ran her fingers through his hair and smiled when he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. Reaching down, she traced a finger lightly over the black shell tattoo that adorned his left hand.

"Does Headmaster make you call him Alpha at home? 'Cause I'll be honest, I don't mind Sir or something similar, but I don't know if I could scene with my Dom and call him that," Stiles remarked, then ducked his head as Lydia sighed and touched his neck again.

"That's really none of your business, Stiles," she reprimanded softly. "What a Dominant and their submissive agree on for their private time is between them."

"Sorry, Lyds," Stiles apologized, then winced when she pressed his neck a bit more firmly to remind him where they were. "I mean, Miss Lydia."

"Good boy," Lydia praised him, stroking his neck affectionately. "You know I don't mind you calling me Lyds at home, but at school you need to remember to address me formally."

Stiles and Lydia had been close friends since they were children. Their parents had been friends and they'd grown up together. When Stiles' mother had gotten sick, Lydia had been a comfort to him. She would keep close to him in school and touch him often, knowing even at such a young age that contact was an important source of comfort and security for a submissive. She had been able to reach him where their teachers couldn't when his anxiety manifested into panic attacks, often the only one who could calm him. On the nights when his father had to work or be at the hospital, Stiles would often stay at her house and they would cuddle together on the couch. And when his mother lost her battle with illness and his father had been nearly overwhelmed with the grief of losing his beloved submissive and coming to terms with becoming a single father, Stiles turned to Lydia when his need arose. To this day, she always seemed to instinctively know when he needed her.

For many years Stiles had been sure that Lydia was the Domme of his dreams, sure they were perfect for each other, even though she always gently rebuffed him. He had daydreamed often as they grew up of her realizing they were actually meant to be, and claiming him once they were of age and tattooed. But as they neared their maturity, he had come to realize that while he loved Lydia deeply, it was more as a best friend and sister than as a Dominant, though he instinctively responded to the command she naturally exuded. When it came down to it, Lydia could be downright terrifying. Like, really.

Stiles had discovered that fantasizing during his "Stiles time" about a curvaceous Domme putting him through his paces pretty much guaranteed that he would have the happiest of happy endings. But Stiles had also found that picturing a muscular Dom pushing him to the very edge and making him beg for release also resulted in Stiles having some pretty mind blowing orgasms. After thinking about it for awhile he had decided there was no sense in limiting himself. When it came to the thrill of being dominated and showing submission, Stiles didn't discriminate. He was an equal opportunity submissive.

So Stiles was content remaining the best of friends with Lydia. She looked out for him, even to the point of sometimes saving him from himself, and she saw to it that he wasn't harassed by the other students for his unclaimed status. No submissive would dare risk her displeasure by teasing him, and no Dominant was foolish enough to try to take unfair advantage of him and incur her wrath. Even fully mature Doms were hesitant to take on Lydia Martin when she was in her element.

"Now, apologize to Erica as well for asking about her private life, even though I know you meant no harm," prompted Lydia, giving his neck another gentle squeeze before releasing him.

Erica waved her hand dismissively. "It's okay, Mistress Lydia, I don't mind." She grinned mischievously at Stiles, allowing her eyes to gleam gold and her fangs to elongate slightly. "And no, I don't have to call him Alpha at home. I prefer Sir and Isaac likes Master, but he lets us call him Peter as well. When we're in public, we are expected to address him respectfully. Remember, he isn't just _an_ Alpha, he's _The_ Alpha, and he doesn't tolerate anything less than obedience and respect. And that goes for everyone, not just us. Honestly, I'm a little surprised he didn't punish you for your impudence. If Mistress Lydia hadn't been here to correct you, I imagine at best you would have found yourself in the corner so fast your head would spin, and probably with a sore ass as well."

"Headmaster doesn't usually trouble himself punishing students, he lets their Dom handle it," shrugged Stiles. "Or, I guess in my case, my dad, since I'm unclaimed," he commented, looking at his bare wrist ruefully.

Danny's eyes widened as he remembered something from the earlier conversation. "Stiles! Didn't the Headmaster say they were coming to your house to talk to your dad tonight?"

Stiles' jaw dropped open and he dropped his head to the table, groaning miserably. "He totally did. The Headmaster, coming to my house to tell my dad in person that once again, my stupid mouth got me in trouble, _plus_ being put in corner time by Dom Harris. I'm so screwed. What if I'm getting kicked out of the Academy?"

"You're getting expelled? It must be my lucky day!"

Stiles raised his head to glare at the muscular boy who had just walked up to their table. "Shut up, Jackson! This is _serious_! Life as I know it may be about to end! Do you know what my dad is going to say if I've been expelled? I'll just go ahead and tell you, he'll say he's going to kill himself a Stiles!" he sputtered, hands flailing wildly in his agitation.

"Dramatic much?" Jackson smirked back at Stiles briefly before dropping to his knees next to Lydia. He sat there quietly, head bowed and waiting for her to acknowledge him. After a moment, she reached out and tilted his chin upward, rubbing her thumb softly over his lips before releasing him.

"Good boy, Jackson, thank you for being so respectful. You may sit in a chair and join us, my sweet," she said with a smile, "but you know I expect you to be nice to Stiles. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress," Jackson said reverently, resting his head on her knee for a moment before rising and grabbing a chair to pull it closer to his Domme. He moved to sit between Lydia and Danny, and as he sat down, he rested his head affectionately on Danny's shoulder, nuzzling him briefly.

Lydia smiled as she watched her boys together. Several Dominants had at one time or another had their eye on Jackson, attracted to his classical good looks, but his anger issues after finding out he had been adopted following the tragic death of his biological parents had made him difficult to dominate, making them leery of taking him on. It had been the private opinion of many that he would either go unclaimed until an older Dominant with a firm hand took a chance on him, or, worst case scenario, end a Sub Club worker, taking the domination he would desperately need from any Dom with money to buy his submission. That line of thought had only increased once an infected werewolf scratch turned him briefly into a kanima. When Lydia had decided she wanted him, it had surprised nearly everyone. More than a few people thought the brash and confident Domme simply couldn't resist a challenge and that in this instance, she would likely fail. But Lydia had patiently set to breaking down the walls Jackson had built up. It had taken some time, but the emotional breakthrough had been both intense and rewarding. Now Jackson was a werewolf, free of the kanima curse, and completely and utterly devoted to her.

When Lydia had made up her mind to take on Jackson's best friend, Danny, as a secondary submissive, few believed she would be successful. Having multiple submissives could be a challenge even for the most experienced Dominants. Lydia had gotten to know Danny while she was working on getting through to Jackson, and they had become friends. He had helped her by hacking into the school's supernatural database to learn about kanimas and how to deal with them. Danny had been grateful to Lydia for what she had done for his friend, whom he secretly adored, even though they were both submissives. He couldn't hide his true feelings from her shrewd eyes, and she found that she didn't care for the idea of Danny one day having to submit to a Dominant when his heart was otherwise occupied. Direct as always, she approached Danny and asked if he would agree to be her second submissive jointly with Jackson. He had been apprehensive at first, until she assured him that he was not in trouble for his feelings and she wasn't angry with him. She also promised to always respect his preferences, so he needn't fear being punished for not serving her in that capacity. After some consideration, Danny had agreed and they had all been together quite happily ever since.

"What am I gonna do if I'm kicked out of the Academy?" Stiles fretted. "It's bad enough I'm the only one of our group not in a claim, this practically guarantees I'll never find a Dom. I'm going to end up living at home forever and die a virgin," he panicked, working himself into an agitated state.

Lydia snapped her fingers in his face, halting his rambling. "That's enough, Stiles," she said sharply, letting command enter her voice. "Headmaster said it was a business meeting. I'm sure it's probably just introducing his nephew to your dad so he knows who he is and that he's legit. It's your dad's job to know who's who and keep the peace. I can't imagine Allison's family will be all that pleased that there's a new Hale in town."

"Isn't he a hottie, though?" purred Erica slyly as she elbowed Stiles in the ribs. "I would drop to my knees for him in a New York second. All he has to do is say the word."

"Oh my god, Erica, that's your Dom's _nephew_ you're talking about!" Stiles yelped incredulously.

Erica shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe he shouldn't lounge shirtless around the pool in those wet shorts that display his..._dominance_ so enticingly." She rolled her eyes at the open mouthed look Stiles was giving her. "What? I'm claimed, not dead. You can be on a diet and still check out the dessert menu."

"Shirtless? Shorts?" Stiles repeated faintly, eyes wide and looking slightly glazed as his mind ran rampant with images of Derek Hale, dripping wet with swim trunks clinging to him obscenely.

Jackson snorted. "I think you just broke him, Erica. Don't worry, Stilinski. Everyone knows the Hales are the crème de la crème. I can't imagine you being important enough to be on their radar for anything. They'll probably forget you're even there and you can ogle him all you want."

"Jackson!" scolded Lydia, causing him to duck his head in penitence. "You know that's not true. Stiles is going to make some lucky Dominant an excellent submissive one day. Everyone knows Derek Hale isn't in a claim, and I have no doubt that the Alpha is putting pressure on him to claim a submissive. He could do far worse than Stiles."

Stiles gave a quick bark of laughter. "I seriously doubt that's it, Lyds. I mean, Miss Lydia. That's probably completely outside the realm of possibility."

Lydia quirked a sculpted eyebrow at him. "Oh, really? Why do you say that?"

"Well, for starters, did you _see_ him?" Stiles demanded. "I mean, I only got a quick glance, but Jesus, from what I could tell he looks like a freakin' model. We're talking angels probably weep daily over his perfectly sculpted cheekbones. And then, there's me. I mean, yeah, I have no doubt one day a Dom will realize just how awesome I am and be ready to put me on my knees, but I doubt it'll be a supermodel. Let's be real."

"Hmmm, well, perhaps you underestimate yourself, Stiles. Besides, you didn't see what I saw," said Lydia, nonchalantly studying her fingernails.

Stiles frowned at her in puzzlement. "What are you talking about?"

Lydia flashed him a brilliant smile. "Nothing much, really. Just that he looked like he would cheerfully have torn my throat out with his teeth for touching you." She laughed at his stunned expression. "Ah, yes, I can't wait to hear the details of this _business_ dinner."

Stiles looked at her doubtfully. He wondered if she would punish him if he told her bluntly that she had to be seeing things, because there was _no way_ the hottest Dominant he had ever seen was going to be interested in _him._ Still, it was a nice thought, definitely one for the Stiles collection of spank bank scenarios. The idea of being on his knees and submitting to Derek was enough to make his skin tingle, but no. He couldn't think about that. There was no sense in letting Lydia's teasing give him wild ideas that were best not dwelled on. He was already going to be in enough trouble for getting corner time, and he didn't even want to THINK about what would happen if his dad found out he had sassed Peter as well. He needed to focus on being on his best behavior tonight and not embarrassing himself or his dad, not daydreaming of being claimed and cuffed by Derek Hale.

* * *

**TBC**

**ittlebitz . tumblr . com**


	2. Chapter 2

_Ok, I had actually hoped to get this posted last night, but for some reason FFnet was being a huge pain in the ass. This will have everything caught up to AO3 and I will update both sites as I write._

_There's already some lovely reviews and several favorites on this, and I appreciate you all so much! This is my first TW fic and I hope everyone continues to enjoy it._

* * *

Maksym Stilinski sat on his bed, deep in thought. In his hands he held the braided soft leather collar that had belonged to Angelique. His beloved submissive, his wife, the mother of his son. _His best friend_. The pain of losing her had never gone away, though it had tempered with time until for the most part it was a dull ache in his bones rather than the razor sharp agony that would still at times rear its ugly head.

How he wished she were here now. He needed her, needed her calming presence, needed her quiet wisdom. As he sat there alone, waiting for Stiles to come home so he could talk to him about one of the most important and most difficult decisions he had ever had to make, he cursed, not for the first time, the illness that took her from him.

Maks had met Angie his sophomore year of college. He was at Sacramento State studying criminal justice with dreams of possibly becoming a vice officer in LA one day. She had been a dance and theater major, hoping to one day open her own studio. Their first meeting had been at the library. Maks had seen her standing on tiptoes, trying to get to a book she needed from a shelf that was just out of her reach, and he had retrieved it for her. They had both been in provisional claims at the time, but Maks couldn't help but admire the honey colored eyes that had sparkled with so much personality as she smiled and thanked him for his help. He sometimes saw her around campus after that, usually in the company of the guy who was apparently her Dom. She always had a friendly smile and wave for him, while her Dom regarded him suspiciously and put an arm around her possessively.

Several months later, they ran into each other again, this time at a small bar not far from campus. He had been there with a few of his buddies, playing pool and having a few drinks. She came in with a group of giggling girlfriends. It turned out she and her Dom had ended their claim; he was overly possessive of her to the point of trying to control her life completely, which violated their contract. Angie had known things were going sour when he began telling her who she could hang out with and trying to make her change her major in school to something more "appropriate." When he began accusing her of being a dancer just to entice other Dominants, she knew she had to end the claim. Her girlfriends had drug her to the bar that night to both cheer her up and celebrate her new freedom.

Maks had recently ended his claim as well. He had been content enough with his submissive, but the same wasn't true for her. Although Maks had earned a scholarship, it didn't cover all his schooling expenses. He didn't want to take out loans and end up starting life after school in debt, so he worked two jobs to pay the remainder of tuition fees and be able to live off of, as well as being a full time student. Between work, classes, and studying, he was often tired and didn't always have much time for her. He knew that he wasn't always meeting her needs; he could feel it in his own dominant nature when it had not been tended to, the prickling unease that happened when he didn't exert his domination and gain submission in return. Things had come to a head, though, the night he came home early when class got cancelled and found his submissive in their bed being spanked by another Dom. While two Doms could certainly share a submissive if it were contracted, Maks had never agreed to it, and it was a direct violation of their contract. There had been a loud argument that culminated in her stripping his cuff off her wrist and throwing it at him, screaming that she was leaving and would be back for her things. He had torn up their contract that night and then called his best friend, who showed up with movies, booze, and the assurance that it wasn't _all_ his fault.

Still, Maks felt guilty because he felt like he had failed his submissive by not tending to her needs and making her search for fulfillment outside of their claim. She hadn't even trusted him enough to come to him and talk to him about it. He was within rights to lodge a complaint against the other Dom, since interference in a claim fell under jurisdiction of the magistrate, but he decided it was hardly worth it. The damage had been done and there was no sense pursuing a claim that very clearly wasn't working. Maks was a little leery of taking on a new submissive while he was still in school, worried that the same thing would happen. He had been able to keep himself in control and had not had to visit a Sub Club thus far, though he knew if it came down to it, he would have no choice.

Talking to Angie that night had been like a breath of fresh air. Her amazing eyes had sparkled with life and her smile had captivated him. Their friends had seen what was happening and melted into the background, giving them ample space to get to know each other. They had exchanged phone numbers that night. Two and a half years later, newly graduated Maksym moved to the small city of Beacon Hills with Angie, now collared and heavily pregnant. He joined the sheriff's department as a fresh faced young deputy, having given up the idea of working vice in the big city without regret the night he had arrived home to Angie, kneeling by the door with a tearful smile of joy and test results from the doctor's office that confirmed they were going to be parents.

Their son had been born on a rainy day in April. He had come into the world screaming, waving his arms and kicking his feet wildly. When a nurse had thrust the wriggling bundle into his arms, Maks had just stared at him in awe, unable to believe he had a part in something so exquisitely perfect. He had dropped to his knees at the bedside, much to Angie's discomfited amusement, and had kissed her tenderly, whispering words of praise and love to the woman who had just presented him with a beautiful son. They named him Aurélien, meaning "golden," after her father. When the blood test returned indicating their son was a submissive, Angie had cuddled him close and declared that she was the luckiest woman in the world, to have such a loving Dom and her own little submissive to raise and adore.

God, he had loved her so much. Losing her had been a blow he still hadn't recovered from. Not a day went by that his soul didn't weep for her, didn't call for its missing half. Stiles was so much like her, the same gorgeous eyes and full mouth, the same joie de vivre. Angie had loved both of them with every fiber of her being. She had been an incredible mother, always patient and loving. When Stiles had been a baby she had laughingly nicknamed him Ptaszek, which meant little bird, because he was always open mouthed and hungry. As he grew, she deemed the nickname still appropriate, since he chattered constantly. She understood Stiles in ways that his Dominant father sometimes couldn't. The two of them had been thick as thieves, and her illness had definitely taken its toll on Stiles. He had become nervous and withdrawn, prone to anxiety and panic attacks. When Angie passed away, Maks had nearly lost his mind with grief. He would forever be grateful to the Martins for helping so much with Stiles during that time, because he had been adrift without her to anchor him, barely able take care of himself, much less his frightened young son who was also grieving.

Angie's death had marked a significant change in Stiles as well. He had come to him after her funeral and dropped to his knees, lips quivering with unreleased sobs but determined to make a request of his Dom father. He had asked at that time to no longer be called Ptaszek and to be able to go by his school nickname of Stiles, rather than Aurélien. Maks understood his son's need to keep those links to his mother separate and private, and gave his consent. When Stiles selected a bird for his tattoo when he reached his maturity, Maks had been an emotional mess internally, though he had allowed only fierce paternal pride to be displayed.

He had known this day would come, the day where he would have to let his son go. In that moment, he missed Angie more than ever. They were supposed to do this together; watch with pride as their boy left them and entered into his first claim, and then weep over it in private, that their baby boy had grown into such a young man and was starting a life that didn't fully include them.

Having Peter Hale request his presence at his home a few weeks ago was unusual. Maks had been more than a little curious about the 'urgent matter' that required his assistance, especially when it was emphasized that it wasn't in his capacity as Sheriff. He had gone to the Hale estate in his own vehicle and dressed in street clothes. The door had been answered by a service submissive that had ushered him into Peter's private study, where the Alpha had been waiting for him.

Maks had assumed that Peter's purpose in calling him had something to do with Stiles, either with his schooling or some sort of disciplinary problem. There had already been an eventful conference with Dom Finstock over a term paper Stiles had done about achieving subspace while being bound and blindfolded. By Finstock's own admission, the paper was brilliant and well written. However, the assignment was for English class and had been to write about the symbolism in To Kill A Mockingbird, and Stiles had started off writing that justice was supposed to be blind and devolved from there. He had steeled himself for another such conversation, but it turned out Peter wanted to talk to him about Stiles for reasons he had never imagined even in his wildest speculations.

_"My nephew is shortly to return home from New York, Sheriff Stilinski. I'm sure you remember Derek?"_

_Maks remembered vividly the night of the Hale fire, remembered watching helplessly as the flames licked high in the night sky, knowing there had been a family inside unable to get out. He had been there as paramedics had bundled a hysterically weeping Laura and Derek, dry-eyed with shock, into an ambulance to take them to the hospital. _

_Interviewing the teens afterward had been a harrowing job, especially when details came to light concerning young Derek and Kate Argent, daughter of Gerard Argent, prolific Hunter and werewolf hater. Kate was a Domme who was several years older than Derek and had used trickery and seduction to manipulate the un-tattooed boy into a clandestine relationship, all to learn details of the prominent Hale family in order to be able to destroy them._

_Kate's arrest and trial had been full of scandal and intrigue. Only the combined efforts and money of the Hale and Argent families had kept it from becoming a nationwide media sensation. Maks had to testify his department's findings; that Kate, a mature Domme, had colored over her red tattoo with temporary black in order to appear as a submissive. She had enticed underage Derek by telling him she was afraid of her Dominant father and promised that as soon as he was tattooed he could claim her and they would be together. Using sex and empty assurances to play mind games with Derek, she was soon able to gather enough information about the Hales to carry out her murderous plan. She had coerced a young submissive named Matt Daehler into helping her, promising to claim him after he proved his worth to her but intending all along to implicate him to where he would ultimately take the fall. They had created a barrier of wolfsbane around the house that trapped the werewolves inside, but when it came to setting the house alight, Matt had second thoughts and balked. Kate ruthlessly pushed him aside and set the house on fire herself. Eight Hale family members had died in the resulting deadly fire and explosion; Laura and Derek had only survived because they'd been at school for a football game._

_Matt, soon realizing that Kate had been playing him all along, had turned state's evidence for a lighter sentence and had testified against her. He had given details on her plan to bring down the Hale family for no reason other than blind hatred. Maks had watched Kate closely during the trial. She had sat there, looking almost bored most of the time, giving no indication of any sort of remorse. The only emotion she showed was a cold smile when photos of the crime scene were projected on the screen for the jury to see. It had chilled his blood._

_When the jury returned with a guilty verdict, no one was surprised. The sentence of life in prison, which still seemed a bit light to many, considering the number of lives taken in cold blood, garnered cheers of approval from all except the small faction of extremist hunters that supported her actions._

_Laura and Derek had been whisked away as soon as their testimonies were over, sent to New York to live under the protection of one of the large packs residing there and to get away from prying eyes and gossiping tongues. Laura had returned several months prior and had moved into Peter's large estate home. She'd soon begun working with him at the school, and Maks had heard she was being groomed as both the next Headmistress of the school and the next Alpha for whenever Peter decided to step aside._

_"Of course I remember him. I hope he's doing well?" he asked Peter politely._

_Peter had shaken his head. "I wish I could say he was, but sadly that isn't the case. He's still haunted by the past, I'm afraid, and has been reluctant to take on his own submissive."_

_Maks raised an eyebrow, wondering what exactly Peter was getting at. "I suppose that isn't too surprising, given what happened to him. That's not something one easily recovers from. Is he at risk of going feral?" That might explain why Peter wanted him aware that Derek was coming home. A human Dominant would suffer debilitating headaches if they neglected their nature, while a submissive would become ill to the point of painful cramping, nausea and hallucinations. For werewolves, it was even worse, as the wolf part of them would overtake their human side. A feral werewolf had to be dealt with swiftly and carefully._

_"No, no, of course not." Peter looked horrified at the idea that a member of his family was not in control of themselves. "He at least had sense enough to go to Sub Clubs to tend to his needs. No, Maks, do you mind if I call you that?" At Maks' short nod, Peter continued, "I assure you, he is in no danger of going feral. That's not why I called you here at all."_

_Peter paused dramatically and Maks crossed his arms as he waited. After a moment, he grew impatient. "Well?" he demanded. "I know I'm here unofficially and off duty, but my time is valuable, Alpha Hale. I'd appreciate you getting to the point."_

_Instead of answering right away, Peter regarded him with a contemplative eye. Finally, just as Maks was about to demand Peter get to the point or else he was leaving, Peter abruptly changed the subject. "Your son doesn't have a Dominant." It was a statement, rather than a question._

_"What does Stiles have to do with any of this?" Maks asked in confusion. He knew that as Headmaster of the school, Peter was fully aware that Stiles was as yet unclaimed._

_Peter's eyes gleamed, a quick flash of red that was gone as quickly as it came. He smiled slowly and said, "I have a proposal for you. And please, call me Peter..."_

At first Maks had met Peter's suggestion that Derek claim Stiles as his submissive with a sense of disbelief. Of all scenarios he had envisioned for Stiles entering his first claim, getting involved with a werewolf, much less a Hale and, even less, Derek Hale, had never crossed his mind. But the more he thought about it, the more he found himself actually rather liking the idea, much to his surprise. After all, he had no doubt that Stiles becoming part of the Alpha's household would afford him a certain amount of prestige among the citizens of Beacon Hill, not to mention the protection it would offer him. He could certainly do far worse for his first claim. After accidentally finding Stiles' porn folder on his computer, Maks had a feeling that Stiles was rather unlikely to object to a male Dom, not that it bothered him in the slightest. His main concern was what was best for his son.

Maks remembered well the vulnerable young wolf he had worked with in the aftermath of the fatal fire. No one deserved to have that happen to them. Derek Hale had been a good kid who had been caught up in a bad situation and dealt a devastating blow, and Maks wasn't in the least surprised that he was still struggling with the ramifications of his past.

The sound of the door slamming signaled Stiles' arrival home and brought Maks out of his deep thoughts. He replaced Angie's collar in the special box he'd had made for their first anniversary and put it back on the top shelf of his closet.

"Dad?"

"I'm up here, Stiles," Maks called back. The sound of Stiles' feet on the stairs grew louder as he neared the top. He looked at himself in the full-length mirror that hung on the inside of the closet door and took a deep breath._ It was time._

The door burst open as Stiles breathlessly entered. "Hey, Dad, I wanted to-"

"Knees, Aurélien," Maks commanded quietly, motioning to a kneeling pillow he'd placed in the center of his bedroom. He watched silently as Stiles froze momentarily, his mouth open and his eyes widened in surprise before he hastened to obey. It was rare for him to make Stiles kneel for anything, rarer still for him to use his given name, but this was an important matter they needed to discuss.

"Is this about getting corner time in Dom Harris' class?" Stiles asked tentatively, "Because in my own defense, it was Scott's idea. I mean, it was _my_ idea, but it was _Scott's_ idea to try it in class and we-"

Maks held up a hand to indicate for Stiles to be quiet. "It isn't about that, Stiles, although I'm sure we'll be discussing that at a later time. I've spoken to Peter Hale and I-"

Stiles interrupted him. "Wait, Dad, about that, I wasn't _trying_ to sass the Headmaster, honestly, it just slipped out, and Lydia was right there to reprimand me so if it's just the same-"

"Hold on, you're telling me you sassed the Alpha?" Maks had to fight to keep a grin from sneaking across his face. He had told Peter that, while it was true Stiles excelled at his submission classes, he was no shrinking submissive, ready to capitulate to just any Dominant.

A look of panic crossed Stiles' face. "Well, I-"

Maks shook his head and sighed. "Nevermind, Stiles. We'll talk about that later as well. Now," he said, letting command re-enter his voice, "I expect you to be quiet and let me speak. Don't say anything unless I ask you to. Nod if you understand."

When Stiles nodded his head, Maks smiled at him. "Good boy. As I was saying, I have spoken to Peter Hale recently. His nephew Derek is returning home from New York. I'm sure you don't remember, since you were young when it happened, but Derek lost most of his family in a terrible fire. He's been living in New York, but he has come back to work with his uncle."

Maks gave Stiles a significant look. "Now. I know you've been feeling a bit left out as of late with your friends, what with Lydia taking on her two submissives and Scott getting himself claimed by the Argent girl." Privately, Maks wondered if Peter had informed Derek that the niece of the woman convicted of murdering his family was not only enrolled as a student at the Academy, but also the Domme of one of Stiles' best friends. He had his suspicions that conversation might not have occurred yet and made a mental note to ask Peter about it. When that conversation happened, he wouldn't want Stiles anywhere near the vicinity.

"You haven't complained, but I know you, Stiles. It's tough when your friends are involved in things in their own lives that don't include you, especially when it seems you are the only one who doesn't have anything going on. But you've done well in school; I'm so proud of your excellent grades and that you are playing lacrosse on the submissive's team. I'm not the only one who's noticed either," Maks stated.

Stiles stared at him curiously, wriggling slightly on his knees in an effort to stay silent. Maks pressed onward.

"The Headmaster asked me to come see him recently to talk to him about Derek. About Derek and you, in particular. He asked me for permission to have Derek claim you."

_"What?"_ Stiles yelped, falling off the pillow as his whole body jerked in surprise, losing his battle to stay obediently silent. He quickly righted himself to kneel on the pillow again but continued to look at his father with stunned disbelief.

"It's okay, Stiles," Maks hurried to reassure him, thinking Stiles' reaction was maybe a nervous reaction. "The choice is still yours. I made sure of that. I also made sure that if you don't want Derek to be your first Dom, there will be no repercussions at school."

Stiles shook his head, looking a little dazed. "No, Dad, that's not it at all. I just-we met him today, the headmaster brought him to our table and I had no idea. No clue who he was or anything."

Maks smiled at his flustered son. "Well, I wouldn't worry too much about it. What did you think? Do you think you could submit to Derek? I think it could be a good first claim for you, but I want you to be comfortable with your Dom. A Hale claiming you would be considered a big thing around town, but if you don't think you'd be happy then I'll just tell them tonight to forget about it. Your happiness and well being are what's important to me, not what other people think."

"Jesus, Dad, have you _seen_ him?" Stiles asked, gesturing with both arms.

Maks frowned. "Well, not recently. Not since he was a kid about your age. Is there something wrong? It's not a problem that he's a male dominant, right?"

Stiles shook his head vehemently. "Oh, god, no. I'm fine with that. He's just freakin' _hot_. Gloriously so."

"Okay? And that's a good thing, right?" Maks wanted to be sure he understood. "Will you be willing to accept his claim? That means you'll be agreeing to submit to him. They're coming tonight to make you a formal offer. If you agree then we'll make arrangements to meet with the magistrate to enter into the claim. You'll be going with him to live at the Hale estate. There will be a contract drawn up and everything. Is this what you want? Talk to me, Stiles."

"Lydia's never going to let me live this down," Stiles said distractedly, still looking dazed.

Maks frowned in concern. He knew at one point Stiles had carried a torch for Lydia, but he thought that phase had passed. "What's Lydia got to do with this?"

Stiles shook his head, giving a short, unbelieving laugh. "Oh, nothing really, just that she's once again proven right. She's always right, you know."

"O-o-okay," Maks said, deciding not to ask what Stiles meant, "as long as you're sure, then when they get here tonight I'll give my permission for the claim to happen. We'll need to make an appointment with Deaton, the magistrate, to meet with the two of you along with the Alpha to make it a formal deal. After that it's a matter of you getting your cuffs and setting up your contract. Derek's had some serious heartache in his past, son. He's been hesitant to claim a sub, but now he's finally ready to do so, and the person he's choosing is you. This is what you want?"

Stiles swallowed nervously but nodded his head. "Yeah, Dad. I'll do it. I'll take the claim."

Maks smiled at Stiles, though it was a little sad. "Alright then. On your feet, son. Come give me a hug." He opened his arms for Stiles to step into and held him tightly, knowing the boy he held would soon cease to exist and in his place would be a young man. "I wish your mother were here to see this. She would have been so happy and proud."

Stiles gave a little sniffle and protested, "Dad, I can't officially meet my new Dom looking like I've been crying. He'll get the wrong idea." He laid his head on his father's shoulder and sighed. "I miss her so much, Dad. I wish she was here, too."

They stood there quietly holding each other for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Maks gave Stiles a final squeeze and pushed him back gently. "Alright. They'll be here in a few hours, so we need to get ready. I put some nice steaks in some marinade earlier, so they should be ready for the grill before too long. And don't give me that look," he said sternly, seeing Stiles' disapproving glance. "I work hard, I can have a steak from time to time. Besides, we're hosting werewolves tonight, important ones at that, and I'm not about to insult them with vegetarian cuisine."

"Could've done chicken," mumbled Stiles in protest.

Maks shook his head fondly. "Nothing but the best for your new Dom, my boy. So let's get a move on. Times a-wastin'. I'm going to go start the grill. There are baking potatoes next to the sink, I want you to clean them and get them ready to cook. There's also stuff in the fridge for a salad, so your need for vegetables is met. I figure you can make some sort of dessert and that should do. Sound like a plan?"

Stiles nodded. "Okay, I'll go get started. I might as well call Lydia while I'm working and let her start congratulating herself on." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "She said there was a reason Headmaster had brought Derek to our table today. She had a feeling there was something about the way he looked at me and how he looked at her for touching me. I thought she was crazy."

Knowing how possessive wolf Doms could be, Maks wasn't surprised that the perceptive Lydia had caught onto Derek. There was no way Peter hadn't smugly told Derek in advance just who he was taking him to see. It would be interesting to see how _that_ dynamic worked out. Although there had never been any claim or intent to claim, Lydia had been subconsciously domming Stiles for years, even when they were children and didn't know any better. She was fiercely protective of him and would hardly be the type to back down if she felt she was in the right where Stiles was concerned. He just hoped the two Dominants would manage to get along and not cause Stiles to feel conflicted between them. He gave Stiles a squeeze on the shoulder and went to prepare the grill.

Stiles stood there for a moment, then slowly went down the hall to his bedroom. He walked in and shut the door, looking around for a moment. For some reason, it seemed surreal, like there should be something different about it. Yet it was still the same; somewhat cluttered, bed unmade and clothes tossed in the vicinity of the hamper rather than in it, soda cans and empty Cheetos and Doritos bags littering the computer desk. He wondered if he had time to clean any before starting his part of dinner, then decided against it. Claim or not, it was hardly likely his dad would let him bring Derek into his room. Not that they would do...what? Anything? Stiles felt his cheeks grow hot at the thought of kneeling before his Dom, but he refused to let his mind wander further. He'd watched his fair share of porn, probably more than might be good for him, but hey, he'd done his research. The last thing he had wanted was to embarrass himself once he was finally claimed. Stiles firmly believed in being prepared for anything, so of course he had watched both straight and gay porn. For science. And reasons.

But he didn't need to be getting distracted and he definitely didn't have time for Stiles time, because his Dom was coming over tonight and...

_Holy shit, his DOM was coming over tonight!_

Stiles grabbed his cellphone out of his bag and unlocked the screen. He hurriedly hit the button to call Lydia, mentally denying the fact that his hands shook ever so slightly.

_C'mon, Lyds, pick up, pick up..._

"Stiles?" answered Lydia, sounding just a little distracted.

"Oh my god, Lyds, you were right, you were so right," gasped out Stiles.

"Of course I was right," Lydia said smugly, then, "Wait, about what? What am I right about now?"

"My dad just told me that he and the headmaster have an agreement and Derek Hale, smokin' hot, supermodel, direct descendant of the gods _Derek Hale_ is going to be my Dom, and Jesus Christ, Lydia, I'm gonna have a heart attack right now," Stiles panted as his anxiety threatened to overtake him.

"Breathe, Stiles," Lydia said sharply. She listened for a moment for his breathing to regulate as he automatically complied. "In, out, and again. Yes, good boy, that's better." She paused for a moment before letting out a slightly wicked sounding giggle. "Is this where I say I told you so?"

"How is it you're always right?" grumbled Stiles, feeling better now that his heartbeat had slowed back down.

"Darling, you should know by now that I'm rarely wrong, especially when it comes to men and what they want," Lydia said flippantly. "Now, I don't mean to cut this short, but I have my boys playing right now and I need to get back to them. I'm rewarding Jackson for making lacrosse captain."

"You're letting him Dom Danny?" Stiles squawked in surprise.

"They're playing," Lydia corrected. "Like what Erica was saying at lunch today. I saw how Danny reacted and knew he would be interested. Besides, it pleases me to please them, and they are awfully pretty together. So if you'll excuse me, I do need to go. You should call Scott. He missed out on all this today, and you know if you don't tell him until after the fact he'll have his feelings hurt and walk around for days with that kicked puppy look. Gotta go, bye!"

The line went dead as she ended the call without giving Stiles the chance to say anything else. Stiles stared bemusedly at his phone for a moment, blown away as always by the whirlwind that was Lydia Martin. She was right, though, he needed to call Scott and fill him in. As a fellow submissive, Scott could probably relate more to the mixture of excitement and apprehension that came with being claimed. God knew Stiles had listened to Scott for what seemed like endless hours when Allison first started at Hale Academy and became the Domme of Scott's dreams. He wasn't sure who had been more relieved when Allison claimed Scott: Scott or himself.

Stiles checked the time and decided that unless he wanted to end up making their dinner late, hardly the impression he wanted to make, he would have to call Scott while working in the kitchen. He dialed and held the phone to his ear as he quickly made his way down the stairs, stumbling and missing the bottom one completely in his haste but somehow managing to stay upright and still holding his phone.

"Hey, Stiles!" Scott cheerfully greeted when he picked up. "What's up?"

"Hey. Can you talk?" Stiles asked as he started running water in the sink to scrub the potatoes his dad had indicated earlier. He pulled out the tinfoil and some sea salt and olive oil, deciding he would prepare them for baking while talking to Scott.

"Sure. Allison's not in right now, she and her dad are training. Luckily, her mom decided to go along and watch them. I know the fact I'm a wolf doesn't sit so well with them, but her dad's just intimidating. Her mom, on the other hand, looks at me like she could imagine nothing more pleasurable than flaying me alive. That woman is one terrifying Domme," Scott said in a near whisper, as though the Argents were the ones with the enhanced senses and might overhear him somehow.

Stiles winced in sympathy. When the well known hunter clan found out their darling Allison fully intended to claim a wolf submissive, there had been heated arguments among them. Victoria in particular had been horrified by what people would think. Allison, having been raised as a strong Domme that expected to be accommodated and obeyed, would not be swayed, and Chris and Victoria reluctantly welcomed Scott into their home as their daughter's submissive. While Peter Hale was more than a little intimidating, both as a Dom and the Alpha wolf, at least Stiles could take comfort in the fact that Peter didn't actively dislike him.

"I can imagine," Stiles said sympathetically. "So, did you get in a lot of trouble today? You guys never did come to the group lounge for free period."

"You know how it is when Allison punishes me. She makes sure to let me know how disappointed she is, which is the absolute worst, because I _hate_ that, I just want to please her, you know? But then she makes me go with her to Dom Harris' class. I think she's going to make me apologize or something, which would have sucked enough, because he's such a dick, right? But no. She makes me sit in a desk and _watch_ while she goes to the board and writes 'I will not allow my submissive to misbehave in class' 500 times. Like she's being punished instead for something I did. I realized what she was doing right away and I begged her to let _me_ do it. But she just ignored me and didn't say a word, which freakin' sucks. She wouldn't let me write, wouldn't let me do it _for_ her. By the time she was finished, I swear, I had nearly died," lamented Scott.

"That's rough, buddy," Stiles commiserated, feeling his own guilt for his part in Scott's punishment. Not being allowed to serve their Dom was guaranteed to get to a sub, making them feel even more guilty for having disappointed, especially when they had to watch their Dom do something in their place. But being ignored by their Dom was even worse. Stiles hoped he never made Derek angry enough to ignore him.

"It's okay," Scott said cheerfully. "When she was finished she let me kneel for her, and she petted me and told me she forgave me but expected me to behave in class, that it wasn't right to cause a distraction and keep others from learning. So I'm okay. She's the perfect Domme, you know?"

"You've mentioned it before," Stiles said dryly, having heard such a sentiment from his friend numerous times. "So listen, since you weren't with us during free time you missed meeting the Headmaster's nephew, Derek Hale."

"Yeah?" asked Scott, not sounding terribly interested.

"Yeah," answered Stiles, rolling his eyes. He loved Scott, but his friend was decidedly Allison-centric at times, and if it wasn't in some way related to her he tended to not pay attention. "You could be a little more enthusiastic here, best buddy old pal, seeing as this is your future brother-from-another-mother-in-law we're discussing here," he said, fighting back a slightly hysterical laugh as he anticipated Scott's reaction. He waited for a moment for Scott to realize what he had said, nearly ready to repeat himself when he heard Scott's choked intake of air.

"Wait, what?" sputtered Scott. "You want to be claimed by the Alpha's nephew? Are you crazy?"

"What's so crazy about it? You weren't even there, you haven't _seen_ this guy. Besides, how does that make me crazy? Don't I deserve to be claimed by a good Dom?" Stiles reasoned, trying to keep the slight hurt out of his voice and not succeeding. "It's actually happening, by the way, not just my wishful thinking. Headmaster talked to my dad about it, and they're coming over tonight for dinner and to discuss the claim. You could at least be happy for me, Scott, I would've thought that you of all people might be."

"Sorry," Scott said meekly. "You just caught me off guard. Of course you deserve a great Dom, the best. Are you sure he's it, though? I mean, you don't even know this guy. What do you know about him besides who his uncle is and that he's got a pretty face? What if he's an asshole?"

Stiles wasn't sure exactly how to answer. Scott had wanted to belong to Allison almost from the moment he'd given her a pen in a class they shared. They'd had a definite connection. How could he make Scott understand that the idea of kneeling and submitting to Derek seemed _right_ somehow, when he didn't really understand it himself? "Do you really think my dad would agree to let me go to someone who was an asshole?" he parried instead.

"You're right," agreed Scott, sounding relieved. "Your dad would never do that. So, hey, wow! This is actually happening! Your first claim. By one of the Hales at that! Practically royalty now, huh? How do you feel?"

"Truthfully? I think I'm freaking out just a little," Stiles confessed as he finished scrubbing the potatoes and started tearing off tinfoil to wrap them in once he'd coated them in olive oil and salted them. "Like I said, you didn't see this guy. He's _super_ hot, you have no idea. He could get any submissive he wanted. We're talking they would probably fight each other for the chance to get with him. Yet here he is, choosing me. What if he regrets it? What if I'm not good enough?"

"What are you talking about? Of course you're good enough. He's lucky to be getting you," Scott declared loyally. "I get it, that he's hot, but let's be real, you aren't so bad yourself, not that _I_ look at you like that, but I get why someone else would. You're one of the top submissives in school, everyone knows that. No wonder the Alpha likes the match, nothing but the best for his family, right? Since he's your first Dom, he'll get all your firsts, you know? He gets to train you just how he likes. For some Doms that's supposed to be a big deal."

Stiles knew Scott was trying to make him feel better, but instead he was suddenly feeling more nervous at the thought of doing _anything_ with Derek. "He'll be able to tell I have no clue what I'm doing, Scott. I've never done anything with anyone, all I know I learned on the Internet and by watching porn. He's either going to die laughing at me or kick me out and wonder why he bothered taking on a sub no one else wanted," Stiles worried as he poked holes in the wrapped potatoes with a fork.

"Don't be stupid," retorted Scott. "If he's anything like the Alpha it'll probably give him a huge ego boost to be the one who gets to do things to you. At least now you can quit complaining that you've never seen nudity in real life except for the locker room."

"Hey, everyone knows that doesn't actually count. Besides, I saw Jessa Meyer's boob at the pool once!" argued Stiles defensively.

"_Really?_ You never mentioned it. How'd you manage that?" asked Scott, sounding betrayed that this was the first time he'd heard this. "She _showed_ you?"

"Not exactly. She was at the deep end and her suit had slipped. I don't think she noticed," Stiles soothed, trying to placate him.

"So it was just there hanging out by itself? Did it float?" Scott asked, sounding fascinated.

"I don't know, sort of, I guess? You've never asked Allison or looked at hers in the water before?" Stiles questioned, wondering why it mattered.

"My dick floats," Scott laughed.

"Gee, Scott, let me call the local news. There's probably time to get you a feature on the late showing," Stiles shot back sarcastically.

"Doesn't yours?" asked Scott, still laughing.

"Dude, how are we _even_ discussing this? I take showers. Showers are nice for Stiles time, which I happen to enjoy. As often as I can. I promise, if I ever find out, you'll be the first person to know," Stiles threatened, only half joking. He had to hand it to Scott, though, he was feeling a bit more relaxed now.

"I bet you say that to all the boys," Scott teased. "But listen, I need to go. I just heard the garage door opening, which means Allison's back from training. I'm going to go run her a hot bath and get her bed ready. If I'm lucky, maybe she'll let me massage her tonight. I'd say break a leg, but I'd be afraid you'd actually do it. So good luck, yeah?"

"Gee, thanks, Scott, nothing like the confidence of your best friend to give you that calming little boost," Stiles snarked.

"Dude, you're worrying for nothing. He's going to love you. You got this, okay? We'll talk later and you can give me all the dirty details. Go get him, tiger!" and Scott hung up.

Stiles put his phone down and wondered briefly about his choice in friends and what that said about him as a person. He arranged the potatoes in a foil pan and took them outside to his dad to be grilled, then returned to the kitchen to mix together a large bowl of salad and try to figure out something for dessert.

He could so do this.

Deciding on his mother's chocolate lava cake recipe, Stiles set the oven to preheat and deftly mixed together the ingredients. He prepared them in the ramekins that Angie had always insisted made the cakes taste the best. Stiles popped them in the oven and set the timer on his phone. He decided he had just enough time to shower and change before they were ready, so he headed back upstairs to do so.

If he jerked off in the shower to thoughts of Derek Hale whispering words of praise to him while he sucked his cock, well, it was no one's business but his own.

* * *

Derek paced his room pensively. He had rearranged his closet _(twice)_ to make room for anything Stiles might want or need to hang up and had emptied half of the drawers in the dresser to accommodate for Stiles' things. A service submissive had already stripped his king sized bed and replaced all the bedding with clean linens. The sheets were the soft and luxurious high thread count that Derek preferred, and the comforter was plush and lightweight. Extra pillows were piled on the bed and Derek hoped it looked cozy and inviting. He sat on the bed and bounced, testing the springiness of the mattress, idly wondering if Stiles would find it comfortable and finding himself really, _really _hoping so.

There was a perfunctory knock on the door and Laura burst in without waiting for an answer. "There you are! I've been looking all over for you. If I didn't know any better I'd think you were avoiding me." She softly shut the door behind her and rushed across his room, stopping in front of him to stare at him with wide eyes.

"What are you talk-_what the hell are you doing?_" barked Derek, his whole body jerking in surprise as his sister, the next Alpha and a Domme in her own right with a soon to be collared submissive, dropped to her knees in front of him.

Laura looked at him, her normally mischievous and sparkling eyes now wide and pleading as she took his hands in her own. "Is it true? Please say it's real and not just Peter trying to mess with my head with his twisted sense of humor."

"What are you going on about? Get _up_," hissed Derek, growing more uncomfortable each moment she knelt before him. He pulled his hands out of her grasp and slid over, patting his bed to indicate for her to sit next to him.

Laura rose to her feet with a fluid grace that even Peter admitted he sometimes envied and sat down on the proffered spot. She eyed Derek's face, looking at it as though she could discover any secrets he might be hiding if she concentrated hard enough. She took a deep breath and released it on a soft sigh.

"Peter says you're finally taking a submissive, Der. Actually claiming one, not just hitting up the clubs again. Is it true?" Laura asked gently as she continued to stare at him searchingly.

Derek swallowed heavily. There were times Laura reminded him so much of their mother it was almost painful. He scowled at her to cover up his emotions and keep them at bay. "It's not like it's a big deal, Lola. Peter arranged the whole deal with the Sheriff beforehand. I take on his kid as a sub and they have some sort of business partnership arrangement after that."

"Not a big deal?" Laura retorted. "Are you joking? This is huge! This is the first time you've taken a real submissive. You're finally letting go of the past and not letting that bitch keep a hold on you even from her prison cell. I _know_ you, Derek. You've wouldn't do something you didn't want to do, no matter how much Peter stomped and snarled you'd have found a way out if you wanted to." She stopped and narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "You would, right? Peter didn't blackmail you into this or anything? Don't get me wrong, I want you to have a true sub, but only if you want it. If you're doing this under duress, I'll have your back with Peter. You know that." She ran her hands through her long, dark hair and huffed in frustration. "I don't know what I'm saying here. I feel like I'm contradicting myself."

Derek smiled grimly at her. "He didn't really give me any choice. It was The Alpha that informed me I'd be taking on the Stilinski kid as a submissive. You know that means it's final or else."

Laura stared at him. "Did you say Stilinski? You're getting Stiles Stilinski as a submissive?" A huge smile broke over her face. " But, Der, that's _awesome!_ He's one of the best submissives in the school, smart, a bit on the sassy side, maybe, but it just adds to his charm if you ask me. Oh, and he's so adorable it should honestly be illegal. Just wait until you see him!"

"I already have," Derek confessed, almost reluctantly but unable to keep the truth from her. "Peter took me to see him at the school."

Laura studied him for a moment, then her smile became a wicked grin. "You _liked_ him, didn't you?" she crowed triumphantly. "_That's_ why you aren't fighting Peter on this, Alpha decree or no. You'd have found a way out of it somehow if you didn't really want it, even if it meant getting your ass handed to you by Peter for insubordination." She laughed delightedly.

"Shut up," grumbled Derek irritably. He was a grown man, he hated when Laura somehow managed to make him feel like an awkward teenager. So what if she was absolutely right? There was something about Stiles Stilinski that captured his interest and made his wolf pace in anticipation. The thought of having him in his bed, awaiting the pleasures he could show him made Derek's mouth go dry and his body burn with a need that he'd never felt before with any other submissive.

"Oh, no, I am going to enjoy this, you have absolutely no idea. I can't wait to welcome him to the family. I know! I should get him a nice gift basket filled with toys and things!" Laura grinned when Derek bared his teeth and growled at her. "Ohhhhhh, possessive already, are we, little brother? Don't want anyone spoiling your submissive but you?"

Derek fought back a blush, hating that Laura knew exactly how to get to him. She really was world's worst tease. "You have your own submissive to pamper," he said instead, refusing to directly acknowledge her comment.

"True," Laura beamed happily. "Boyd is amazing, so gorgeous when he submits. You should know, though," she continued wickedly, "Stiles isn't the top submissive student for nothing. He kneels quite prettily, if I do say so myself. And those incredible eyes of his, they just _shine_ with perfect submission when he's being put through his paces. He seems to have quite the affinity for endurance, it seems. Oh, and don't forget that gorgeous mouth of his. I don't know which would be better, to see those pretty lips stretched around a gag or to listen to every plea he made while pushing him to his limit."

Derek glowered at her, fighting back another growl and refusing to let his mind conjure up the images her words created. "You're a horrible person," he snapped.

"I know," Laura agreed as she shrugged nonchalantly. "It keeps me awake at night. Seriously, though, Derek," she said earnestly, "I really am happy for you. I honestly was afraid you would keep on punishing yourself for what happened. Don't you know that by keeping yourself from claiming a true submissive and giving yourself the chance to be happy, you've been letting her win all this time?"

Derek looked at the floor, unable to meet her eyes. "It doesn't matter, Lola. No matter which way you look at things, it was my fault."

"You were a _kid_, Derek. She knew just how to get to you and make you dance to her tune. What happened was terrible, nothing changes that, but you're still here, you're still alive. Mom and Dad wouldn't have wanted you torturing yourself." Laura reached out and cupped Derek's cheek in his hand. "I know they'd be really happy for you right now," she said softly. "You have a real chance for true happiness here, Der. Don't let her ruin it for you. She's in prison, paying her dues. Just let her rot there."

They sat quietly for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts and memories of the past. A soft knock on the door startled them both back to the present.

"Come in," Derek said loud enough for whomever it was to hear. The door opened and one of the household service subs stepped in, eyes downcast respectfully.

"If you please, Sir, Alpha Hale is requesting your presence in the study," he said quietly. "Shall I inform him you'll join him momentarily?"

"Go ahead. Might as well get this over with," Derek groused. "Thank you, that'll be all," he waved a hand in dismissal to send the submissive on his way.

Laura stood up and tugged him to his feet. "Be excited, Der! You're going to get your submissive!" She then looked him over critically. "You're not wearing _that_, are you?"

Derek looked down at his gray Henley and dark blue jeans. He frowned at Laura. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"Do you think this is just some casual dinner you're going to?" demanded Laura. "You're going to have dinner with the Sheriff at his house and declare your intent to deflower his only child! Don't you think you should dress up just a little for the occasion?"

"Good god, Laura, I'm not going to tell him I'm going to deflower his son, do I look that stupid to you?" hissed Derek, glaring at her even as he moved to comply with what she said. She did have an excellent point, of course, but Derek would bathe in liquid wolfsbane before he admitted so to her out loud.

Laura glared right back at him. "The man is no idiot, Derek. He didn't get elected by being a fool. He's a Dominant and he knows full well what you'll be doing with his son. At least give him the comfort of thinking he's giving his boy to a respectable Dom and not some miscreant that doesn't know how to dress properly when the situation calls for it!" She shoved him to the side. "Move. I'll help you so you don't screw this up."

_"Fine,"_ snapped Derek as he pulled his shirt off and threw it on the floor in a display of petulant temper. Remembering he was bringing home a submissive tonight, he growled low in the back of his throat and picked the shirt up to toss it in the hamper in the corner instead.

Five minutes later Derek found himself dressed in a pair of khaki pants paired with a shoulder-hugging light green sweater that Laura swore brought out his eyes. Not that he cared about such a thing. Not really.

Okay, fine, maybe just a little.

"There," Laura said, sounding satisfied with her efforts. "Now you look a little less like a biker and more like a respectable Dom." She put her hands on her hips and studied him thoughtfully again for a moment. "Don't go anywhere," she ordered as she turned and stepped into his ensuite bathroom, returning quickly and rubbing her hands together. "Now, hold still," she demanded as she reached up and began running her hands through his hair, obviously styling it.

Derek tolerated her ministrations for a moment before snapping, "Hurry up, would you?"

"Anxious, are we?" Laura teased. She stepped back to check out her handiwork and nodded once. "You'll do. I rather wish you'd shaved, but maybe you'll get lucky and Stiles is into the facial scruff." She turned him in the direction of the door and gave him a little shove. "Go now. Don't keep the Alpha waiting. Go get your boy. And leave the leather jacket here."

Derek walked to his door and took a deep, calming breath. He turned and grinned at Laura, unable to resist one final parting shot. "Thanks. Oh, and if you're nice, maybe I won't tell Boyd you think my submissive has a pretty mouth." He closed the door behind him and smirked to himself in satisfaction when he heard Laura yell, "Derek! You wouldn't _dare!_"

The closer he got to Peter's study, though, the more Derek's grin faded. He shook his head in irritation with himself. It was as though there were dozens of butterflies all aflutter in his stomach and his skin tingled from the tips of his toes to the very roots of his hair. His wolf seemed to be pacing back and forth just under the surface of his skin. It wasn't as though he was afraid of Peter, so Derek couldn't understand why he felt so..._nervous_. What was it about this boy, this _human_ that had him so worked up? Derek was confident in his abilities to dominate and please a submissive. He had been a popular patron of the Sub Club in New York City, where he had been a regular. Word got around that he was a highly desirable Dom and a generous and considerate lover. It was no secret that the club submissives often argued amongst themselves over who got to service him, and several had actually begged him to claim them after their sessions. Whenever that happened, he would gently turn them down and then quietly and discreetly arrange with the club to never be set up with that submissive again.

_So why was he now as nervous as a fresh faced boy about to try to dominate his first sub?_ he wondered irritably.

Peter smiled smugly at him as he entered the study, doing little to improve Derek's black mood. It was as though the bastard knew of his inner turmoil and was amused by it.

"Oh, come now, Derek, what's with the sour face?" Peter chided. "You're either going to frighten the boy to death or convince him that you're terminally grumpy. I know how charming you're capable of being, put your game face on. Do remember you have a protective father to win over tonight as well."

Derek glared back at his uncle, managing enough control of himself so as to not growl at him in response. "May I remind you that this is all your doing and not my own choice," he snapped.

Peter looked back at him serenely and completely unruffled by his temper. "And may I remind _you_ that when you set eyes on the boy for the first time I could smell the pheromones practically coming off you in waves? Even Erica could tell, though she is far too well mannered to say anything. You can complain and deny all you like, Derek, but that doesn't change the irrefutable fact that you want him. Badly, at that. So cease all this nonsense and kindly remember that, as you are so fond of reminding me, you are, in fact, an adult."

Peter's lecture was interrupted by the intercom unit on his desk buzzing. He leaned forward and pressed the talk button. "Yes?"

"The car you ordered is ready for you, Sir," came the reply.

"Excellent. Thank you, we'll be right there," Peter answered. He turned his gaze back to Derek and narrowed his eyes. "It's time to go, Derek. Think about it; your choices here can insure you future happiness or misery. It would be so much more pleasant if you at least made the attempt to make the best of things. You aren't the only one who'll be affected here."

The ride to the Stilinski house was a quiet one, with Peter casually reading stock reports and Derek staring out the window in pensive silence. It was strange, but it seemed that the closer in proximity to Stiles that he got, the calmer he seemed to feel. As irritating as it was that Peter was yet again right, Derek had to admit to himself that while he still was unable to understand the effect this boy had on him, he _did_ want him. The idea of anyone else claiming him was completely intolerable and made his wolf want to howl with rage. He wanted to possess him, every inch of him. He wanted to see him kneeling at his feet, awaiting his command with breathless anticipation. He wanted to taste the sweetness of those perfect pink lips. He wanted to hear the sounds he would make as he was pushed to the edge and brought back again and again. He wanted to cover his body with his own until he smelled like _Derek's_. He wanted to mark that perfect skin so that there was no question who he belonged to.

He would take his boy out to the finest places, dressed in the best fashions and with both Derek's cuff adorning his wrist and Derek's mark on his neck. He would show him off to the world, to be admired and, yes, _desired_, but only from a distance, because Derek knew he wouldn't hesitate to swiftly and unmercifully punish any challenge to him from any other Dominant. Did he dare hope for more, hope that his boy would yearn for him in the same way? He wasn't sure yet, but he was keenly aware that there was something about him that was changing Derek, even before they officially met. It was both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

When the car pulled up to the Stilinski house, Derek's initial dread had instead become a sharp sense of nervous anticipation. Tonight he would be bringing his boy home with him, and Derek promised himself he would make things good for him. He was a mature Dom, he could handle a boy entering into his first claim.

He would keep assuring himself of that until it finally sunk in.

The service submissive that was the driver of the car opened the door to let Derek out. He had been so deep in his own thoughts that he hadn't noticed that Peter had already gotten out and was standing on the sidewalk waiting for him with an amused expression on his face. Derek scowled at him in response. He followed Peter to the door, breathing quicker as anticipation caused his nerves to go into full on attack mode and the butterflies that had been merely fluttering in his belly earlier returned and began dive bombing instead.

"Relax," whispered Peter as he rang the doorbell. "You're going to end up either vomiting or passing out, neither of which is the first impression you want to make."

Derek didn't say anything in reply, just concentrated on regulating his heartbeat to a normal level and took a brief moment to thank providence that humans couldn't hear or smell emotions like wolves did. He could hear footsteps approaching from inside the house and swallowed heavily to force back the nervousness threatening his composure.

_This was it. This was actually happening._

* * *

**TBC**

**ittlebitz . tumblr . com**


	3. Chapter 3

**First, I want to apologize for how long it took to update this. I struggled with writing this chapter and I lost count of the number of times I started, stopped, deleted, rewrote, cried...you get the idea. I hoped to get this posted sooner, but it needed some serious polishing up before it was ready. Also, many of you may know that I am also in the Glee fandom and we suffered a devastating blow this week when Cory Monteith was found dead, so writing took a back seat while my Glee family and I grieved together. Thank you all for your patience.**

**Thanks goes to my darling beta Sies for doing her part in trying to keep me honest with POV changes and the like and for popping my hands when I needed it. Thanks also go to my beloved Shelley for cheerleading, talking me down from the ledge, reading over and making suggestions, talking me down from the ledge again, helping me figure my way out of a wet paper bag by giving implicit instructions, once again talking me down from the ledge, and for reminding me to have fun and for god's sake, get off the ledge...**

* * *

Derek swallowed heavily as the door swung open. Even though it had been several years since since he'd last seen him in person Derek instantly recognized Maksym Stilinski. The Sheriff's gentleness and understanding in the days immediately following the fire, coupled with the integral part he had played in Kate's prosecution had left a favorable impression on all the remaining members of the Hale family, and Derek suddenly found himself wishing that he'd taken the time back then to express his gratitude.

Now that they were meeting again under much different circumstances Derek wanted to prove to Makysm that he was no longer the broken boy that no doubt lived in Maksym's memories, but a fully competent Dom capable of providing and caring for a submissive. The fact that the submissive in question happened to be Maksym's own son and just happened to be in possession of the most sinful mouth that Derek had ever seen was merely extra motivation for Derek to make a favorable impression.

"Maks!" exclaimed Peter jovially, holding out a hand and greeting Maksym as if they were old friends who had happened to run into one another in the frozen food section of the grocery store as opposed to the head of their households sitting down to discuss a contract that would alter the course of all their lives.

Maksym Stilinski took the proffered hand and shook it. "Good to see you again, Peter," he replied. His gaze moved to Derek and he eyed him shrewdly before holding his hand out to him, "And here's Derek, all grown up now. Welcome back."

"Thank you Sheriff," Derek said politely as they shook hands. It didn't escape him that Maksym's grip was just bit tighter and he held on just a tad longer than strictly necessary or that his pale green eyes seemed to look right through him, the calculating assessment leaving Derek with the vaguely horrifying thought Maksym was aware of each and every impure thought Derek had already had about his son.

"Please, come in. Make yourselves comfortable." Maksym said as they entered into the pleasantly worn looking living room. He motioned to the couch, indicating for them to sit.

Peter sat easily, leaning back comfortably, while Derek bypassed the couch altogether in favor of the plush armchair recliner that smelled strongly of Maksym. He fought back a smirk as Maksym narrowed his eyes at him speculatively from across the room. Peter looked as though he was fighting back laughter, making Derek contemplate sprinkling wolfsbane powder in his silk robe later as revenge for this whole situation.

"The steaks are ready. Stiles is putting the finishing touches on everything and he'll call us when it's time to eat," Maksym said. "I made two of them rare, if that's okay. If it isn't, I still probably have time to cook them longer."

"No, no, rare is perfect, isn't it Derek?" Peter assured, not waiting for Derek's nod of agreement as he sniffed the air appreciatively. "Dinner smells good, Maksym. I haven't had a good steak in quite some time so this will be a pleasure. Is that chocolate cake I smell baking?"

"Yes. Stiles decided to make his mother's chocolate lava cakes for dessert. It was always a favorite recipe of his," Maks said conversationally as he walked to a small wine cabinet. "Wine? I've got a nice Cabernet Sauvignon that will go nicely with dinner."

Peter nodded. "Please. I do enjoy a good Cabernet. Derek?"

Derek shook his head. "None for me, thanks."

Maks studied him for a moment. Derek knew by the look on the man's face that whatever was coming next was going to a be a test of some sort, and a moment later he was proven right. "It's okay, Derek. I promise you it's safe. The only thing I have laced with wolfsbane is my special cache of bullets, just in case they're ever needed." He poured a glass and held it out, looking steadily at Derek.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Derek accepted the glass of wine from Maksym. He took a leisurely sip, not breaking eye contact, slowly licking the wine from his lips and savoring the taste before giving Maksym a wolfish grin that was more a baring of teeth than a smile. "I hope you're a quick draw, then, Sheriff. Bullets only help when you get the chance to fire them." He lifted the glass in mock salute before shooting a scowl in Peter's direction, letting him know he hadn't missed the hastily smothered snort of laughter.

Screw wolfsbane in Peter's robe, Derek was going to dust the entire contents of his underwear drawer. The bastard was enjoying this far too much.

To Derek's relief, Maksym's lips quirked up in a small smile and he nodded. "Yes, you'll do just fine." He poured himself a glass of the rich wine and sat on the smaller sofa that matched the couch. "I spoke to Stiles," he said, looking at Derek first and then Peter, "He says he'll agree to the claim."

Derek felt a tension he hadn't realized he had inside him relax at Maksym's words. Peter had been right; despite all of his reluctance to take on a submissive, he couldn't deny that he _wanted _this one more than anything he'd ever wanted before, nor could he explain why since he didn't know himself. All he knew was that no matter how much he desired Stiles, no matter how much his wolf _demanded _him, had Stiles refused their offer, Derek would have had no choice but to deal with it. It would have been torture. His wolf paced restlessly just below the surface of his skin, which agitated him even more.

He was torn between the conflicting desires to impress Stiles' father and leaving the two older Doms to find the boy that now belonged to him and claim him. He was suddenly taken with a fierce need to see his new submissive, to speak to him and gaze into those magnificent eyes. Derek squirmed in his seat, feeling ridiculously like a teenager with a crush, impatient to be in the presence of his heart's desire.

Maksym looked at him steadily over the rim of his wineglass as he calmly took a sip of his wine, taking a moment to appreciate the flavor before swallowing it down. He chuckled as he leaned back, settling comfortably into his seat. "Stiles is in the kitchen, if you'd like to go say hello," he said, gesturing toward the vicinity of the kitchen with his wineglass.

Derek blinked at him for a moment before he realized that he had finally been given permission by Stiles' dad, his _Dom, _to approach him. It was all he needed to hear. Derek rose gracefully to his feet, determined to remain cool and not appear too eager. After all, in just a short time _he_ would be the Dom calling the shots when it came to Stiles, and he felt like that was understood now. "Thank you, Sheriff," he said.

Maksym inclined his head. "Let's dispense with the formalities, shall we? I think at this point you can call me Maks. The kitchen is back and to your right."

"Okay, then. Thank you, Maks," Derek agreed with a slight smile. He knew Maks was trying to set him at ease and thought maybe he hadn't been quite as successful at hiding his nerves as he'd hoped. Reminding himself once again that he was an experienced Dominant, he straightened his shoulders and made his way in the direction Maks had indicated.

As he exited the living room Derek was so focused on spending time with Stiles that he failed to pay any attention to the Doms he'd left behind, completely missing when Maks leaned over into Peter's personal space and demanded in a furious whisper, "Have you told Derek the Argents are back?"

* * *

Stiles puttered nervously around the kitchen. He had been tasked with finishing the last minute dinner preparations while his father went into the living room to prepare for the arrival of their guests. Stiles was grateful for the distraction since the busy work since having to something focus on kept his anxiety at bay. Stiles had readied the potatoes, piling the foil wrapped spuds high on a plate so they were ready to be served, set the table with his mother's good dishes and silverware, even going so far as to pull out linen napkins and fold them into elegant swans. The salad and been prepped and placed onto the table alongside his homemade balsamic vinaigrette dressing in its glass cruet, and the sour cream, shredded cheese and crumbled bacon had been placed in the condiment bowls. Warm rolls had been placed in the breadbasket, a new stick of butter adorned the porcelain dish in the middle of the table and his father had the steaks ready on a large serving platter.

The cakes were nearly done and kitchen filled with the heavenly scent of chocolate as Stiles chewed nervously on a thumbnail, keeping on eye on the timer and an ear out for the arrival of their guests. When he finally heard voices in the living room he felt a sharp twist in his stomach and his heart began to race

"It's okay, Stiles," he coached himself aloud. "You've been waiting for this day to come, no need to freak out. Even if your Dom happens to be incredibly hot. Smokin' hot, even. Sex on legs. Oh, god, sex, you're going to be _having sex_ with a guy that looks like _that_ and Jesus, how is this even my life?"

Stiles gasped as he grabbed the countertop with both hands and squeezed down hard enough to make his fingers ache. The dull pain brought him back down and he could feel the brief panic begin to recede

"There you go, man, you got this," Stiles congratulated himself as his breathing returned to normal. The timer on the stove dinged, signaling that the lava cakes were ready. Stiles grabbed a potholder and opened the oven, letting the warm chocolaty scent waft over him as he leaned down and sniffed appreciatively. He was so engrossed in his work that he didn't notice the shadow in the doorway.

"Perfect every time," Stiles said happily, carefully pulling out the cookie sheet with the ramekins on it to place it on the stove top and completely unaware that he had an audience. He left the pans in the stove to cool and went to the cabinet to grab the powdered sugar the cakes would be dusted with before they were served. He then went to the refrigerator and pulled out a container of raspberries and placed them on the counter. After thinking about it for a moment he went back to the fridge and pulled out a container of strawberries and set them down next to the raspberries, contemplating them both. "One of you is going to be sacrificed to the pagan god of Lava Cake, which one will it be?" Stiles mused.

"I like strawberries," said a low, gruff voice behind him.

Stiles startled at the deep, rich voice coming from behind him and accidentally brushed his forearm against one of the hot ramekins resulting in a small burn. He yelped in pain and dashed to the sink to run cold water over the gradually reddening spot. Stiles froze when Derek joined him at the sink and gently took his arm to inspect the burn.

"Are you alright?" Derek asked.

Stiles gaped at him for another moment before regaining his wits. He hastily pulled his arm out of Derek's loose grasp and stepped back. "Dude! Not cool to sneak up on me like that! Creep much?" he snapped, flinging his arm in emphasis and wincing when it tugged the burned area. He nearly cringed when Derek raised a brow at him and took his arm again to take a closer look at the smarting injury.

"Are you alright," Derek repeated, the concern in his voice wrapping Stiles in a pleasant cocoon of warmth.

"I-It's nothing. I can totally rub some dirt on it and walk it off," Stiles tried joking but the pained whimper that escaped his lips when Derek pressed down on a particularly tender spot ruined the illusion of bravado.

Stiles saw Derek's mouth tighten into a disapproving line and then the Dom placed two fingers under his chin, forcing Stiles to meet the Dom's eyes. "Can you hold still for me?" Derek asked quietly.

Even though Derek hadn't given him a direct order and been careful not to let command enter his voice, Stiles felt an overwhelming desire to do as Derek had asked and found himself nodding his acquiescence as he stared into his Dom's eyes.

His Dom was even better looking up close. Strong brows topped green eyes that were trimmed with long lashes that could hardly be legal. His cheeks were covered with a heavy stubble that Stiles found himself wanting to rub his own face against, to feel the prickle and burn it would cause as it passed over his skin. Derek's lips were a dark pink, and Stiles realized belatedly that they were moving as Derek spoke to him.

"You should be more careful," Derek scolded lightly. "Your well being is important to me. I don't like seeing you get hurt."

Stiles' cheeks heated in a dark flush as he dropped his gaze to the floor. _Crap_. Not even officially claimed and already he's screwing up and disappointing his Dom. He was surprised at how much he already wanted to please Derek, to show him how well he could obey and submit, be a good boy, _his_ good boy. "I'm sorry, Sir," he said in a near whisper, the title slipping out without his realization. "I didn't mean to. But in my defense, I only hurt myself because you startled me. I didn't know you were there."

"I apologize. It wasn't my intention to frighten you," Derek murmured as he gently covered the red welt on Stiles' arm with his palm.

"That's o-hey, what are you doing?" Stiles asked, instinctively trying to pull away but getting distracted instead by the warm tingle that had nothing to do with the burn. He watched in fascination as small black lines appeared on Derek's hand. The stinging ache began to dissipate as it was replaced with a euphoric sensation that rushed through him, flooding his entire body in a wave that warmed and cooled him simultaneously. Stiles felt himself smiling foolishly. He felt awesome. _Better_ than awesome. This was the best thing _ever_ in the history of best things, way better than that one time he and Scott swiped a bottle of his Dad's liquor when Scott had been depressed because he was sure Allison would never claim him since she was a hunter and he was a werewolf. Stiles had gotten cataclysmically wasted, which had been totally fantastic until the next morning when his body rebelled and tried to turn itself inside out. Scott, that asshole, had been perfectly fine because it turned out werewolves couldn't get drunk on regular booze.

"I'm taking away your pain," Derek explained, keeping his hand firmly in place and concentrating on drawing out the pain and replacing it with healing energy.

"Huh," mused Stiles dreamily, caught up in the endorphin-like haze of the pain exchange. "Can _any_ werewolf do that? Because I'll be pissed if Scott's been holding out on me and he could've been doing the touchy-takey-away-the-pain thing all this time. Or is this something only Dominant wolves can do? Can you do it in other ways?"

"Other ways?" Derek asked.

"Yeah, like can you do it with your mouth maybe?" Stiles asked blissfully before he realized what he was saying and stopped, looking momentarily horrified at himself. "I mean, not that what you're doing is bad, because, hey, no complaints about magic fingers, like _at all_, and a little pain isn't necessarily a _bad_ thing, and oh my _god_," he groaned as he realized how his last sentence could be interpreted.

Derek's mouth lifted at one corner in a half grin. "Are you asking me to kiss it and make it better?"

Stiles' eyes widened and looked panicked for a brief moment. "No! Yes? I mean, well, I _might_ be, if it were okay, maybe, and-_ohhhhhhhh, my god_..." he trailed off as Derek's grin became predatory.

* * *

Derek had been taken aback initially by how bold Stiles appeared to be but then again considering the first time he had ever met him the boy had sassed Peter, perhaps he shouldn't have been.

It hadn't been Derek's intention to startle Stiles but when he'd walked into the kitchen and found the boy so engrossed in his dinner preparations he had wanted to take advantage of the opportunity observe the young man that would be his submissive. He had been amused and rather entranced with watching and listening to his boy chat with himself about fruit.

When Stiles had burned himself Derek had been overcome with an intense need to help. His dominant instincts had taken over to where all he could focus on was the fact that his submissive was in pain, and the thought of Stiles suffering was simply intolerable.

Derek had wanted nothing more than to order Stiles to stand still and allow Derek to tend to him but he knew that it would be both poor form and a violation of trust to dominate Stiles outside of their claim, so he had been careful keep command out of his voice and make sure that Stiles knew that he was given a choice of whether or not to comply and not an order he had no other recourse but to obey.

When Stiles had let the title of "Sir" slip from his lips it had almost been Derek's undoing. His control had been further tested when Stiles had placed himself in Derek's hands and allowed Derek to leach his pain. Stiles staring at him, those perfect pink lips parted ever so slightly, perfect trust and the promise of complete submission shining in his eyes had pushed Derek ever closer to the edge. He had been mesmerized by the warm brown of Stiles' eyes and found himself helpless against his need to lean closer and breathe in the boy's scent. All of his senses had exploded as Stiles' scent washed over him, filling his nostrils with the clean smell of soap combined with an underlying essence of fresh fallen rain in the forest that Derek knew would be unique to Stiles. He felt it tickling his skin and could taste it on his tongue. It was as though it had entered his bloodstream and spread throughout his body, saturating him from the inside out, intoxicating him fully.

He'd been startled to feel the telltale stinging sensation in his gums as his fangs had threatened to drop and the tightening in his fingertips as his claws had begun to form.

The partial shift had been enough to shock Derek back into some semblance of control. He hadn't had an involuntary shift since he had gone through puberty and the fact that he'd experienced one at the first scent of his submissive shook him to the core. That Stiles could unwittingly elicit such a strong response from both Derek and his wolf had him had been unexpected.

Derek probably would have been able to steady his heartbeat, will his fangs back into relaxation and walk away while still firmly on the right side of the line of propriety, but Stiles' remark about other ways to draw out pain proved his undoing.

If his boy wanted him to kiss it and make it better, then who was Derek to refuse him?

Derek lifted Stiles' arm slightly as he bent over to slowly trace his lips over the fading burn. "Is this what you want?" he teased, feeling inordinately pleased when he heard Stiles' breath hitch. He felt Stiles tremble and heard the rabbit fast, rapid beat of his heart. His hold on Stiles was loose, allowing him an escape if he wanted it, but Derek knew, they _both_ knew Stiles wanted no such thing. There was no scent of fear coming from his boy. Derek could smell his nervousness and confusion but was delighted to also smell the keen interest mixed with the faint underlying scent of arousal that had been emanating from Stiles from the moment they touched and was steadily growing stronger. Stiles melted and relaxed into the sensations and Derek thrilled at how responsive Stiles was to his touch, creating pictures in his mind's eye of how much they'd both enjoy just how receptive to Derek Stiles seemed to be.

Derek peeked at Stiles from beneath his lashes as his tongue darted out to trace the fading burn on Stiles's arm. He smirked when Stiles swallowed a moan and bit down on his bottom lip. "Nuh uh," Derek said, taking his thumb and gently removing Stiles's lip from in between his teeth. "Let me hear you. Don't be afraid to tell me what you want," he purred encouragingly as his entire body thrummed with confident dominance and desire.

It hadn't been an order but Stiles responded beautifully, his eyelashes fluttering shut and his lips parting on a soft whimper of submission that went straight to Derek's cock. Derek felt Stiles shiver when he scraped his teeth lightly over the sensitive skin but he was wholly unprepared for the boy to tip his head ever so slightly to one side, baring just a hint of the vulnerable curve of his neck to the Dom.

Derek felt a low growl rumble deep in the back of his throat as his wolf responded on the most primal level. Did Stiles even realize what he was doing, offering his neck like that? Did he have any clue what he was doing to him? It would be so easy to take what was being offered to him. He felt his fangs growing again and his vision swam for a mere breadth of a second before sharpening and he knew his eyes were glowing. He leaned forward and slowly and tantalizingly ran his nose up the curve of Stiles' neck, paying special attention to a spot just behind his ear that seemed particularly sensitive, taking mental note of the goosebumps that Stiles got in response before retracing his way back down, scraping his cheek lightly against warm, soft skin, his wolf rumbling in satisfaction now that Stiles smelled like a mixture of both their scents. He felt Stiles quiver in response, his low gasp audible to his sensitized hearing, and wanted to howl his triumph.

"Well, now, isn't this simply adorable? How very interesting," an amused voice drawled from the doorway.

Derek whipped around with a snarl, his face transforming as he pushed Stiles back to stand protectively in front of him. Reacting on pure instinct, he bared his teeth and flashed his eyes at his uncle.

"Oh, do relax, Derek. You've nothing to be worried about from me," Peter said with a grin, not batting an eyelash at his nephew's ire. "Not that it hasn't been delightfully diverting, but I believe Maks gave you permission to come and say hello to Stiles, not rub yourself all over the poor boy like a Were in heat. It's probably a good thing he can't hear or smell what's been going on in here."

Derek knew that technically his uncle was right, but damn the man for enjoying it so much. He snarled at him again, just on general principle but found himself on the receiving end of his Alpha's ire.

"Careful now, remember your place," Peter admonished with false gentleness as he let the Alpha red bleed into his eyes. "Get yourself under control. Remember that Maks doesn't have to let you have Stiles tonight, seeing as we don't meet with the magistrate until tomorrow."

The combination of the rebuke and the reminder was enough to have Derek shifted from his Beta from back into his human features.

His uncle nodded his approval just as Maks walked into the kitchen.

"Are we ready to eat, Stiles?" Maks asked.

Derek groaned internally as he realized what the scene must look like from the older Dom's point of view: Derek and Peter facing each other down with a slightly flushed, obviously flustered Stiles tightly pressed between Derek's back and the kitchen counter.

"Is there a problem?" Maksym questioned warily, frowning in concern.

"No sir," Derek answered calmly.

"I believe I was asking Stiles," Maksym stated, peering around Derek and making eye contact with his son.

Stiles stepped from behind Derek and instantly the werewolf wanted to drag him back.

"Dad! Hey! No, nope, everything's great, hunky dory, peachy keen, nothing to be seen here, why don't we get that dinner going. Let me go fix the plates, you know, salad in the bowls and potatoes ready to eat. You already showed me which steaks were the rare ones. When you come in, I'll get you seated and we can get started, okay? Give me five minutes." Derek winced as he heard the slightly breathy, overly bright tone in which Stiles answered his father before beating a hasty retreat out of the room. If the man hadn't been suspicious before he sure as hell would be now.

Derek could tell by the narrowing of the Sheriff's eyes that he wasn't entirely buying what Stiles was selling, but thankfully the man decided to let it go.

"This way gentlemen," Maksym said as he led the way into the dining room. Derek followed, hoping that he would manage to make it through dinner without either killing his uncle or throwing Stiles down and mounting him on the dining room table.

* * *

Derek entered the dining room and watched as Maksym took his place at the head of the table. He waited patiently as Stiles showed Peter to the chair opposite of Maks' and then led Derek to the chair placed across from his own. Once the two werewolves were seated, Maksym nodded his permission for Stiles to stand next to his own chair before formally addressing Derek and his uncle.

"Alpha Hale," Maksym intoned respectfully, "Dom Derek Hale, you are both welcome to our home. I'm pleased to have you join us in fellowship for dinner before I let my son go with you in agreement to a claim between him and Derek. As is custom, I've had Stiles prepare the plates already. He will continue to serve us as needed during dinner, but as you can tell, I don't make him kneel at meal time."

"That won't be an issue," Derek assured Maksym. There were most definitely times and places he would have Stiles on his knees, but during meals would not be among them. He would have preferred sitting next to Stiles, rather than across from him, but he would comply with the arrangement Maks had set up. "I know some dominants insist on the more old fashioned notion of their submissives kneeling at all times, but my family has never kept with that custom. Peter doesn't make his subs kneel at meals and I have no plans to require Stiles to, either."

Maksym nodded his head once and the relief etched across his face made Derek hopeful that the man was gaining confidence in the claim and growing more secure with the idea of entrusting Stiles to Derek.

"Thank you. I'm glad to know that, actually," Maks said, his voice drawing Derek out of his thoughts. "There are those who would call me liberal in my upbringing of my son, but it's been just the two of us since he was eight. It wasn't always easy for me to raise a submissive son on my own without his mother to counterbalance, so I'm aware that some are of the opinion that Stiles is maybe a bit on the willful side at times. We can discuss things further while we eat, though. Stiles, you can sit down." Derek watched with sharp eyes as the man reached out and gave his son an encouraging squeeze to his neck and sat down, Stiles quickly taking his seat after his father had settled.

Derek had known from his previous dealings with Maksym that the man was compassionate and fair but seeing in his own home, with his own submissive son had only deepened Derek's respect for him. Derek had no doubt that were a great many men in Maksym's place that wouldn't have had the patience or the inclination to be a single parent to a submissive, but Maksym had risen to the challenge and Stiles seemed to have thrived under his father's care.

Peter and Maksym made small talk but Derek hardly registered their voices. He was so focused on Stiles that it took him several moments to realize that Maks had been speaking to him.

"I'm sorry, Maks, would you mind repeating that?" Derek asked.

"You seem a bit distracted, son. I asked if everything was to your liking. Do you need anything? Steak sauce or something?" Maksym explained.

As Stiles jumped up from the table, presumably to go into the kitchen to get the steak sauce Derek hurried to reassure him. "No, it's okay, I don't need any," said Derek quickly. He didn't want Stiles leaving his sight. It was far too easy to get distracted by those long fingers and what they might be capable of doing, or of that flawless neck that begged for him to mark it. Seeing the pink skin where he had rubbed his face against it only made him want to do it more.

"I'm fine as well, thank you," Peter put in, as he popped a bite of steak in his mouth and chewed, the barely contained glee on his face making it plain to Derek that his uncle was enjoying the scene immensely.

"It's no problem, I assure you. Stiles can easily grab the A-1 from the refrigerator," Maks said with a genial smile.

Stiles was halfway out of his seat when Derek halted him again. "No, Stiles, it's okay, I don't want any." Stiles froze, the indecision written plain as day across his face. Derek suddenly realized it had to be confusing for his young submissive to get conflicting information between his father, who had always been his Dom, and Derek, who was about to be his Dom in his first claim, and decided he needed to take charge of the situation so that Stiles could be set at ease. He took a calming breath and then smiled in apology. "I wasn't intending to slight this excellent meal, I promise. I was just lost in thought. I don't eat sauce on my steak so there's no need to trouble yourself on my account." To his relief, Stiles sat back down. He tried to ignore the knowing look Maksym was giving him but felt his ears burning and was sure they were red.

Things settled after that and Peter and Maksym chatted about the latest developments in a murder case involving a famous athlete while Derek and Stiles snuck glances back and forth across the table. Even though the meal was excellent, Derek spent most of his time pushing food around his plate, utterly distracted the sight of Stiles' pink lips wrapping around his fork each time he took a bite or how he kept looking at him from beneath lush lashes. When Stiles began fidgeting with his fork, running his fingers along the handle in a way that was practically obscene, Derek nearly groaned out loud. He grimly swore to himself that if he survived this dinner without somehow embarrassing himself, he would consider it a triumph.

As dinner came to a close Stiles sought permission from his father to serve the dessert. After disappearing into the kitchen for a few moments Stiles came back into the dining room with the lava cakes. Derek hid a smile and felt a warm frisson of pleasure go through him when he realized that Stiles had taken his tastes into consideration and chosen to decorate the tops of the decadent looking cakes with ripe strawberries.

Custom dictated that Stiles was to serve the agent of his Dom first. Derek watched as Stiles took the first plate to Peter, dropping to his knees next to his uncle and presenting the plate to him. "With your permission, Alpha."

Peter nodded and accepted the plate. "Thank you. That's a good boy," Peter praised, grinning and giving the boy a quick rub of approval on his neck. Derek stiffened and barely resisted the urge to growl. He knew what the custom was, but seeing his submissive kneeling for another Dom didn't sit well with him regardless, especially when the Dom in question was his uncle. He knew that Peter was merely making mischief, but the idea of another dominant touching Stiles raised the hackles of his wolf and stretched the tethers of his control. Only the fact that Stiles' father was sitting there kept him in his seat. He didn't want Maks terminating the claim before they even got to start it because he was concerned he might be giving his son into the care of a lunatic with anger management issues. Lashing out at Peter like that might also frighten Stiles and the last thing he wanted was for the boy to fear him. Derek grit his teeth and gave his unrepentant uncle a look that promised retribution at another time.

The next person to be served as per custom was the dominant parent of the submissive. Stiles dropped to his knees next to his father and presented the plate of cake to him. "With your permission, Dad."

Derek felt the man's pride as Maks smiled and accepted the plate from his son. "Thank you, Stiles. You did well, son."

It was now time for the submissive to serve his Dom. Derek noted the small shake in his hands as Stiles removed the plate from the sideboard and made his way over to Derek. He heard Stiles' heartbeat ratchet up as he knelt by his side and saw the quick flash of his tongue as it darted out to lick over soft pink lips. "With your permission, Sir," Stiles said as he presented the plate to Derek.

Derek took the plate from Stiles and placed it on the table. Unable to keep his hands off his submissive for any longer, he ran a gentle hand through Stiles' hair to rest at the base of his neck and leaned forward, resting his forehead against Stiles' and breathing deeply of his scent once again. "Good boy," he whispered.

Derek smiled in satisfaction as he heard the small hitch in Stiles's breath and saw the warm flush on his skin indicating his pleasure at receiving the touch and praise of his Dom. His long lashes swept over his cheekbones as they fluttered shut and Derek sat transfixed by the sight. They sat there like that for a moment, caught up in a world that consisted only of the two of them and completely unaware of their surroundings.

And then Peter, because _of course_ it was Peter, shattered the moment.

"Ahhh, first claims. There's just something magical about them, isn't there?" he chuckled.

Stiles' eyes flew open and he jerked backwards, nearly falling on his ass. Derek reached out a hand to steady him and glared daggers at Peter. As annoyed as he was with his uncle he couldn't help but be charmed by the adorable blush that stained Stiles's cheeks and wonder just how far down the delicate pink flush went.

Custom dictated that the dominants not eat until the submissive had been seated so once Stiles got his plate and joined them at the table everyone took up their forks.

"Oh, my god, Stiles, this is incredible," moaned Peter around a forkful of warm lava cake. "You'll have to make this for us again."

Derek's exasperation with his uncle's antics were cut short at the sight of Stiles beaming from the praise.

"That would _so_ not be a problem," he heard Stiles answer his uncle. " This is one of my favorite things to make and eat." Derek smiled as Stiles looked hungrily at his cake and licked his lips with relish. "Mmmmmmm. Come on, gorgeous, get in me!"

Derek nearly choked on his intake of air. _Christ_, this boy was going to kill him, and he didn't even seem realize he was doing it. He heard Peter snicker softly and managed not to throw his fork at his head, instead using it to cut into the cake. The mouth watering aroma of warm chocolate grew stronger as the gooey center began to ooze out. Derek took a bite and closed his eyes. The cake melted in his mouth with a velvety smooth explosion that circled his tongue like a silk scarf and danced over his taste buds like musical notes.

_Holy mother of god._

"So," said Maksym as they were savoring the last of the rich dessert, "I think it's time we address the issue at hand. Does anyone want coffee or anything before we start?" Derek and Peter both declined and Maks nodded. "Okay then. As I mentioned earlier, I've spoken to Stiles about your interest in a claim between him and Derek. Stiles has agreed to enter into this claim, and I am giving my permission. I do, however, have some conditions."

Derek quirked an eyebrow and noted that Stiles seemed to be taken aback by the mention of any conditions being placed on their claim. While it wasn't unusual for provincial claims to have stipulations, typically they were included as part of the contract. Derek was intrigued as to what amendments Maksym might want to make on their claim that he hadn't gone over with his son first.

"What would those conditions be?" Derek asked quietly.

"First of all, I believe I've mentioned that Stiles is all I have," Maks began, answering Derek. "His upbringing might have been a bit unconventional at times, but he's smart and quick. He takes medication for ADD to help him focus, but it's not always that easy. He also has a tendency towards stubbornness and can be mouthy. I know that punishment and reward is an important part of a claim, but I don't want my son injured. If the urge to kill him becomes a regular thing, I want him back. No questions asked."

"I assure you rumors of Derek's homicidal tendencies have been greatly exaggerated," Peter said smoothly. "Also it does bear mentioning that Stiles is our top submissive student. I have every confidence that he'll do just fine. And if he gives Derek a run for his money, all the better. Builds character." Peter smirked at Derek from across the table and Derek stifled the urge to stab his Alpha with his dessert fork.

"I understand that. I also understand that humans don't have the supernatural strength and healing ability of werewolves. I'm looking out for the well being of my son," Maksym said firmly.

Peter started to say something but Derek cut him off. He was plenty capable of speaking on his own behalf. "You have my word, Dom Stilinski. I don't foresee any problem, but I agree to your request. I also want you to know that harming Stiles is the last thing I want to do. We Hales don't have the reputation of being submissive abusers."

Maks cleared his throat pointedly. "Understand I mean no offense. My son's well being is my top priority."

"And now it's mine," stated Derek, matching Maksym in his intensity.

"That's what I needed to know," Maks said approvingly, then continued, "Now, the only other condition I have on this claim is no cubs. Not unless you make this a permanent claim and even then not until he's older."

Derek's eyes grew wide at the bold declaration but before he could gather his wits Stiles reacted.

_"Da-a-a-ad!" _squawked Stiles, throwing both arms up to grab his head in embarrassment. "How much whiskey did you have before dinner? We're both guys! That's not possible!" He paused and then looked at the two wolves suspiciously. "Is it?"

Derek couldn't find his voice but Peter apparently had no such problem. "I can see we need to enroll you in a werewolf claim class at school," he chuckled before turning serious. "To answer your question, Stiles, there actually _are_ documented cases of male couples procreating. It's extremely rare, but it _has_ happened. The good news is that it has yet to happen in a wolf/human couple. So far it appears that human males aren't carriers, but I assure you, we are able to take preventative measures that won't affect you in the slightest. We take the same precautions with every provisional claim as humans do, and my family is no exception." Having stunned Stiles into silence, Peter turned to Maks. "You have the word of the Alpha, Maks."

"Thank you," replied Maks with an incline of his head. "I don't believe I have any other concerns at this time." He breathed out a heavy breath, and then stood, followed by Peter and Derek.

In accordance with custom, Peter spoke first. "Dom Maksym Stilinski, as Alpha of the Hale pack, I present my nephew, Dom Derek Hale, and I am here as his agent. In accordance to the law, we formally make an offer for Derek to claim your son as his submissive in a provincial claim with all the regulations that go with it, which will be discussed in full at time of register. We agree to your conditions. If you are agreeable, then we will meet with the magistrate at the time of your choosing to legally register this claim. I also respectfully remind you that as per our previous conversation, we would like permission to have him return to our residence tonight so as to get him accustomed to our household."

Derek could tell by the stunned look on his face that his submissive had been unaware that he'd be leaving so soon. He tried to give Stiles a supportive smile but wasn't sure it registered with the flustered young man.

Maksym must have sensed his son's surprise as well, because when he spoke next Derek noticed that the older Dom had a reassuring hand on the young man's shoulder. "As dominant and only living parent of submissive Aurélien Stilinski, called Stiles by his request and my permission, I give my approval for Dom Derek Hale to claim my son as his submissive in a provincial claim. As is decreed by law, my son has been applied to for his agreement to enter this claim, and he has done so of his own free will. I hereby request the presence of the Alpha, Dom Peter Hale, and his nephew, Dom Derek Hale, to join me at the magistrate tomorrow evening at 5:30 to register this claim and make it legal. As agreed to in prior communication with the Alpha, I consent to let my son go to the Hale household tonight in order to try to make his transition as a member of the household as easy and smooth as possible."

Derek released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding at Maksym's words. It was done, then. Stiles was his and he would be taking him home tonight. A prickle of something that felt almost like utter happiness built up in his chest until he felt nearly lightheaded with it.

"Stiles," Derek said gently. "Go get what you'll need to get you through the night, and this weekend we'll work on getting you packed and moved. I know that this must seem like it's moving incredibly fast for you and that things are a little confusing right now but I promise you, things are going to be just fine."

Stiles gave Derek a shaky attempt at a smile before shooting a quick, nervous glance at his father. "Wow. Okay, tonight then," the boy said. He paused and motioned to the table. "Shouldn't I clear the dishes and clean up first?"

Derek's eyes slid to Maks, knowing that it was his father's reassurance Stiles needed. Maks shook his head. "I know you normally take care of clean up, but not this time. I've got it, you go do as Derek said so that you can get to your new digs and start getting acclimated."

Derek reluctantly watched Stiles turn and walk towards the stairs. Without thinking, he called out, "Do you need any help?"

Stiles looked back and Derek ached to take the pads of his fingers and smooth away each and every anxious line he saw on his boy's face. When Stiles declined his help and thudded up the stairs Derek swore he could feel the growing distance between them like a physical discomfort in his chest. Strange, especially since they weren't officially claimed yet.

* * *

Stiles shut the door to his room quietly behind him and leaned heavily against it, gasping in a deep breath before sliding bonelessly to the floor. His chest had just started aching and he rubbed at it absentmindedly while his thoughts raced through his head. So he would be leaving his home tonight, not tomorrow after meeting the magistrate. Instead of going to sleep in his own bed one last time, maybe enjoying a little Stiles time and jerking off to thoughts of his hot Dom before succumbing to dreamland, he would actually be in a bed _with _his hot Dom.

Jesus Christ.

He would not have a panic attack right now. He would _not._

Grabbing his phone, Stiles tapped out a text to Scott.

**I may or may not be freaking out right now**

**_What's wrong? : /_**

**Looks like I've got myself a hot Dom **

**_That's awesome, dude! Congrats! Why the freak out? Did something go wrong?_**

**Not exactly, more like oh yeah, hey Stiles, by the way, you're going home** **with the big bad wolves tonight. Have a great night!**

**_Lol, your dad said that?_**

**Not funny, dude, I am dead serious. The legal claiming with the magistrate is tomorrow but I'm supposed to be packing right now for my first grown up slumber party. This is NOT a drill!**

**_But what's wrong? Are you afraid of him? Don't be._**

Stiles stopped to think. _Was _he afraid of Derek? He hadn't given him any reason to be scared, had he?

**No, I'm NOT afraid of him.**

Except maybe he was. Maybe he was afraid of how Derek already made him feel. Maybe he was afraid of not being a good enough submissive. Fantasy was one thing, reality was altogether different, and going home with his Dom tonight was both exciting and terrifying all at once.

**_I can hear your brain working from here. Just relax and let yourself enjoy it, okay? Enjoy being taken care of by your Dom. Everything's gonna be ok!_**

**Sure thing. Gotta go, they're waiting for me. I'll see you tomorrow. **

Stiles puffed out his cheeks with a deep sigh as he drug an old duffel bag out of his closet. He quickly packed clothes for school tomorrow along with a pair of comfortable flannel pajama pants and an old Sacramento State t-shirt that had been his Dad's back in the day and was faded and soft from repeat washings over the years, perfect for sleeping in. Unless, of course, Derek didn't allow him to wear clothes to bed. Stiles shrugged and packed the clothes anyway. Better to be prepared. Clean underwear and socks were tossed in on top of that. A quick run across the hallway to the bathroom to gather together his toiletries came next. He packed his laptop in its bag and made sure to toss his phone charger in as well. He started to zip the bag closed but stopped to pack his bottle of Adderal. His pillow was the last thing he grabbed. He was sure Derek had plenty of pillows, but he still wanted his own. That way if he drooled in his sleep or anything it wouldn't be quite as embarrassing.

Stiles looked over his room to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything. It was a bittersweet moment. His room looked a little forlorn already, and he had only packed an overnight bag, for crying out loud. He was not going to get emotional over his bedroom. There was always moving out for that. Heaving one last sigh, Stiles shouldered his duffel bag and computer bag on one shoulder and grabbed his backpack and lacrosse bag as well before stuffing his pillow under one arm. He managed to make it down the stairs without wiping out and injuring himself or breaking anything. When he stumbled into the living room, Peter and Derek were standing by the door with his dad.

His dad gave him a smile of encouragement that held a hint of sadness. "Got everything you'll need for the night?"

Stiles nodded breathlessly. The weird ache in his chest had gone as suddenly as it had appeared, but now his stomach felt all twisted in knots. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm good to go."

"The car is ready when we are," Peter said.

Stiles gave his dad a shaky smile. "So I guess this is it, then. Goodbye and all that."

His father placed his hand on Stiles' shoulder and squeezed it. "I'm just a phone call away if you need me. No matter what." He waited for Stiles to let his bags fall to the floor before pulling him into a bone crushing hug, holding him tightly for several moments. He heard Stiles sniffle and whispered, "You're going to be fine. I love you, son."

"Love you too, Dad," Stiles replied in a broken whisper as he let go of his dad and wiped his eyes. Straightening his shoulders and blowing out a quick breath, he looked at Peter and Derek. "I'm ready."

Derek reached for Stiles' bags to help him carry them to the car but Maks held up a hand. "You'll help him if he needs it from here on, young man, but this time I will." He picked up Stiles' bags and motioned to Peter to lead the way.

Peter opened the front door and walked to the car. The driver opened the trunk and jumped out, hurrying to assist, but Maks waved him off. He placed Stiles' bags in the trunk and slammed it shut before leaning against it while the driver opened the door to usher Peter into his seat.

Derek held a hand out to Stiles. "Are you ready to go?"

Stiles swallowed heavily and nodded as he accepted Derek's outstretched hand. As soon as their hands touched, a jolt like electricity passed through him and he swore he felt Derek's hand tighten on his as though he felt the same thing. As they walked out, he closed the door quietly behind him. His boyhood home was behind him and a car was waiting to whisk him to his future dwelling, the dividing lines of his life seeming almost surreal.

"It's okay, I've got you," Derek said softly, startling Stiles out of his reverie.

"W-what?" he stuttered.

"I can hear your heartbeat, it's about to pound out of your chest," Derek said as they reached the car, where the driver waited with the door held open. "Stop worrying."

Stiles gave his dad one more tight, lingering hug before allowing himself to be led into the car, followed by Derek. Peter was sitting across from him and gave him a bright smile.

"Ready?" Peter asked cheerfully.

Stiles gave him a weak lift of the corners of his mouth in return and was surprised when Derek pointedly put an arm around him, the possessive action causing Peter to chuckle softly. It had been an emotional day and Stiles was mentally exhausted. Feeling a little lost and out of sorts, he turned and leaned into the protective warmth being silently offered by his Dom. He lay his head against Derek's chest and closed his eyes as he listened to his steady heart beat, slowly relaxing and quietly dozing off.

* * *

Derek tightened his arm around Stiles, holding his sleeping submissive close. His breath caught when Stiles snuffled adorably and cuddled even closer. Touch was a basic submissive need; they craved it, sought it out, even while asleep, but there was always a matter of trust involved. The fact that already his boy trusted him enough to sleep in his arms even after he had been uprooted from the home he had always known made Derek's heart want to sing. It was becoming harder to remember why he didn't want to claim a sub. When Stiles sighed softly in his sleep, causing his lips to part ever so slightly, Derek began to realize that he just might be in serious trouble.

* * *

**TBC**

**ittlebitz . tumblr . com**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay. Here is where I apologize yet again for how long it has taken me to update. I won't make any excuses, but I will honestly say that I have had a lot going on in RL and when I actually had the time to write, I wasn't always in the right mind frame. I also rewrote a significant portion of this, so that was another delay. This is the shortest chapter thus far, but hey, I earn the rating! *bats eyes and hopes this appeases at least a little* (warnings for handjobs and comeplay)**

**Thanks as always to my wonderful beta, Sies, for being the jewel she is, and to Shelley, who makes my writing better with her suggestions. I hope this lives up to expectation, darling. Thanks also to Sam, who suggested the idea in the first place. And I would be remiss if I didn't thank all of you who have subscribed, reviewed, and reached out to me on Tumblr. You inspire me.**

**Was anyone else screaming at their television during the 3a finale? And why is this hiatus so** **_long?_**

* * *

_"Stiles."_

"Go 'way." Stiles mumbled as he cuddled closer into the warmth surrounding him. A firm hand was stroking his back and he softly hummed his approval, then frowned when the hand moved to his shoulder to give him a soft shake.

_"Stiles."_ More insistent this time.

"Five more minutes, Dad," Stiles mumbled, tightening his hold on his pillow, which was incredibly comfortable but strangely seemed a lot more firm than he remembered.

"There you go, Derek. Daddy kink. Just think of all the fun possibilities!"

When he heard Peter's delighted chuckle, Stiles jerked awake, his eyes popping open and full body flail nearly causing him to fall. Only Derek's quick grasp kept him from ending up in a heap in the floorboard of the car.

"Oh my god, would you just shut _up_?" Stiles heard Derek snap as he tried to get his bearings. He twisted in his Dom's arms to look out the car window. They had pulled up to the large, stately Hale mansion and a service sub was approaching the car to assist them inside.

When the door was opened, Stiles watched as Peter got out first. He accepted a list of messages from the service sub and read through it quickly. Quirking a smile at Stiles, Peter sighed and said, "No rest for the weary, it seems business calls. I hope you'll forgive me for being absent from your homecoming; unfortunately I have something I need to attend to immediately. But as the Alpha, I welcome you to our home." He gave Derek a quick nod before walking into the house.

Stiles waited for Derek to get out next, and he climbed out of the back seat with a lithe grace that left Stiles feeling a bit breathless. He clambered out behind his Dom without waiting for assistance and stood next to the car awkwardly as the service sub opened the trunk and gathered up his belongings. Would Derek want him to follow him at a certain distance? What if he wanted Stiles to crawl or something? To his relief, Derek wordlessly motioned him to his side and placed a steadying hand on the small of his back as they walked into the imposing house.

The interior of the Hale manor was tasteful and welcoming, certainly not the ostentatious grandeur Stiles had admittedly been expecting. Wealth was evident but not overpowering. The foyer was a deep brown hardwood with a simple yet elegant chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Twin staircases led to the next floor, but instead of being lined with expensive works of art or sculptures, there were instead framed pictures of the Hale family. The wooden railings were polished to a fine glow and the whole area gave an impression of warmth and life instead of the austere coldness that might be believed of a family that had been hit with the kind of tragedy the Hales had.

Stiles stood quietly as Derek directed the service subs to put Stiles' things in his bedroom and told them they were free to go home once they finished. He leaned into his Dom and felt a thrill when Derek's hand moved from his back to snake around his waist and pull him closer. Stiles couldn't help but feel secure and protected. It was a heady feeling that was still very new. He had always felt protected by his father, and even Lydia, but this was different and exciting, and maybe just a little scary. Once the service subs left them, Derek returned his hand to the small of Stiles' back, urging him forward. There was a set of double doors ahead that were open with light spilling out and the sound of voices from within. Stiles hesitated for a moment, glancing unsurely at his Dom. Derek gave his back a reassuring rub and motioned him forward into the room.

When Stiles walked through the doors he realized he was in a large living room. The plush carpet felt squishy under his shoes and there was a huge high def television on one wall. There were two large couches arranged with colorful throw pillows and the coffee table and matching end tables were a deep cherry wood. On one of the couches, Stiles recognized Laura Hale. She was sitting at one end while a lanky, dark skinned guy that Stiles recognized as Vernon Boyd lay across the couch with his head in her lap. Boyd had been a senior Stiles' freshman year and had been captain of the submissives' lacrosse team. He had been fair and dependable. Stiles seemed to remember hearing about him being claimed by Laura Hale soon after her return to Beacon Hills. Being spooned by Boyd was Erica, who gave him a lazy smile and wave, and sprawled on top of both of them was Isaac, who looked to be half asleep as Laura idly stroked her fingers through his light curls.

"Oh, good, Derek, you're back! And you brought him back with you, that's fantastic. Hello, Stiles, welcome home," Laura smiled, trying to put the obviously nervous submissive at ease.

Stiles gave her a wobbly grin, trying to appear at ease. "Thanks, Mistress Hale, I'm happy to be here."

"Aren't you simply adorable?" Laura cooed. "Such a good boy, too. But you don't have to call me Mistress Hale here. When we're at home you have my permission to call me Laura. You know my submissive Boyd, don't you? And of course you already know Erica and Isaac. You're welcome to come join our puppy pile, we'll make room!"

Stiles heard a low rumbling growl as Derek wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close. He couldn't help but feel a frisson of excitement at the possessive action from his Dom.

Laura's smile became a wickedly teasing grin. "Or not. I see my brother isn't in a sharing mood. Not that I blame him. Okay, you two. Duty fulfilled, you've said hello, now we can say good night. Go on, go upstairs. I'm sure Derek is ready to scent you some more. I suppose you'll be absent from classes tomorrow, yes?"

"Oh, I can't! I have a test in Dom Harris' class tomorrow," remembered Stiles. Fortunately he knew the material like the back of his hand, otherwise he'd be in a panic over not studying at all tonight.

"The claim isn't formal until tomorrow night, Lola," Derek spoke from behind him. Apparently, that explained something to Laura because a look of understanding crossed her face and she nodded.

"Okay. Will Stiles be needing a ride to school, or do you plan to take him?" she asked.

"I'll take him," Derek answered. He leaned closer to Stiles and murmured quietly, "It's time to go upstairs."

Stiles blushed and swallowed nervously, knowing he would be alone with his Dom. "S-sure," he said with only a slight stammer. "See you guys later."

Laura gave him another kind smile. "Good night, Stiles. It's about time that Boyd and I turn in as well, and I'm sure Peter will be expecting Erica and Isaac to be in his room when he gets there. Breakfast is served at 7:00, so we'll see you in the morning."

Stiles nodded and swallowed heavily when Derek took him by the hand to lead him from the room. They went upstairs and Derek turned them down a short hallway. He walked to the door at the end and opened it. "Well, here we are. This is my room. Or, our room, I guess I should say."

Stiles walked in and looked around wonderingly. The room was large, much bigger than his bedroom at home was. The walls were a creamy off white and devoid of any posters or pictures, the only adornment being a large TV. It hung opposite to the huge bed that was covered with a plush comforter and already had his pillow arranged on one side with the other plump pillows there. The sheets were turned back invitingly, causing his cheeks to heat and his stomach to twist with nervous excitement. A large trunk was at the foot of the bed. There was a desk with a computer on it against one wall and to either side of it were tall shelves that were both filled with books. There was also a mirrored dresser and matching chest of drawers arranged near the closet, and what looked to be a gigantic en suite bathroom through the open door. Vertical blinds were hanging across sliding glass doors, and Stiles could see a balcony outside.

"Wow," he croaked. He looked at Derek, who had been watching him silently and looked almost...nervous? _What even_. "This is-this is really _nice_." His Dom seemed to relax at his words, and he walked over to the dresser.

"I went ahead and had the house subs put your things away," Derek said with a wave of his hand. "Once you get moved in, the left side of the dresser will be yours, as well as the top two drawers on the chest. There are also shelves on your side of the closet and space to hang things up. You have your own area in the bathroom for toiletries or whatever you might need. Go ahead and take your shower and get ready for bed."

"Uh, yeah, that'll be great," Stiles said. He licked his lips nervously, looking down and not noticing how the movement drew Derek's eyes to his mouth. "Can I-will it be okay for me to wear clothes to bed, Sir?"

Derek raised his eyebrows and gave him a small but pleased smile. He turned and walked to the door, taking a deep breath as he opened it. He looked back at Stiles and said, "I think that'll be okay for tonight. Thank you for asking. That's my good boy."

Stiles fidgeted, warming at the words of praise from his Dom. He wished he had more experience at this type of thing and knew if he should maybe invite Derek to join him or watch or something, the idea sending a hot spike of nervous arousal through him. He thought he heard the creak of wood, but a quick glance showed him that Derek was still standing in the doorway with one hand on the door facing.

"I'll be back in just a bit," Derek said, his voice sounding oddly strained. He stepped out of the room and closed the door quietly behind him.

Stiles blinked in surprise, wondering why Derek had left him alone instead of staying, not that he minded the privacy. He looked around the room again. Now that he was alone, his normal sense of curiosity took over. The trunk at the foot of the bed appeared to be locked. He walked over to the shelves of books, wondering what his Dom enjoyed reading. There were several biographies as well as what looked like the entire collection of Stephen King works. He saw the Game of Thrones books and all of the Harry Potter books, as well as a multitude of literary classics. There was even a small collection of romance novels, much to Stiles' amusement. All of the books looked slightly worn and well read, so he knew they weren't just for show. Towards the end of the bottom shelf, Stiles blushed to find several books of hentai and erotica, as well as books about bondage, flogging, shibari, and master/slave relations.

It seemed his Dom had a wide variety of interests.

The computer on the desk was a sleek Mac. Stiles found his laptop bag leaning against the side of the desk and pulled his computer out. The desk had plenty of room to accommodate it, so he plugged it in and set it up to one side. He plugged his cellphone charger in and decided to quickly text Scott before putting his phone on for the night. He walked over to the door and took a picture of the room, typing "**Wow**" as a caption before hitting send and plugging the phone in. Wondering where his things were, Stiles opened the drawers Derek had indicated. He found his clothes neatly folded and put away in the top dresser drawer. The few things he had brought looked a little forlorn in one corner of the drawer, but once he brought the rest of his things he would appreciate his Dom's consideration. Unable to resist temptation, Stiles peeked in the drawers that were Derek's. He ran his fingers lightly over the darker colored clothing Derek seemed to prefer, holding a shirt up to his nose and breathing in. A pleasant scent that reminded Stiles of the forest clung to the clothing. It felt somehow relaxing and secure all at once, and he wondered if Derek would mind if he slept in his clothes sometime. The rest of the drawers yielded nothing but more clothing, and the same for the closet. Stiles wondered at the apparent absence of any sort of toys or anything that his Dom might want to incorporate into their claim. Maybe Derek preferred not to use them. Stiles felt a small wave of disappointment, then perked up. The Hale mansion was huge, it was possible there might be a separate playroom. He figured he'd find out soon enough.

Two quick chimes of his phone in succession indicated text messages, so Stiles closed the closet door and walked back to the desk.

**_Niiiiice! *bro fist*_**

**_Allison says congratulations and she's happy for you._**

Stiles fired back a quick answer.

**Tell her thanks. Gotta go, ttyl...**

Stiles hit send and turned off his phone. Until he knew what Derek's rules would be when they were in their room, he wasn't going to chance displeasing him. A quick glance told him he needed to hurry; he didn't know when Derek would be back and he wanted to be showered and ready. Even though his Dom hadn't given him a command or specific time limit, he really wanted to make a good impression on their first night, even if it wasn't the official one. Stiles gathered up his pajamas and clean briefs and carried them into the bathroom.

When Stiles walked into the large en suite, his eyes widened and he came to such a sudden stop he nearly fell on his ass. To his left was a large stand-alone shower that could easily accommodate two people. It was enclosed by shaded glass doors and had a wall of multiple shower heads. The floor was textured stone and there was a wall seat in the far end. His shower gel and shampoo were already on one of the built-in shelves. Just past the shower and in the corner was a large Jacuzzi bathtub. There were candles on the wide end ledges as well as an assortment of bath gels and oils. Two separate sinks shared a large counter space and there was a large mirror behind them. A small medicine cabinet was hung near the door to the small water closet where the toilet was. It was one of the most luxurious bathrooms he'd ever seen.

Stiles turned on the shower and jumped when the water came out already heated and in full force. He grinned delightedly and quickly stripped out of his clothing. Once he was in the shower he found he could position the heads however he wanted. Within minutes, Stiles was singing enthusiastically as he soaped himself up under the steady deluge of hot water. He reached for his shampoo and lathered it up, spiking his hair up in a Mohawk before flattening it and rinsing. It was tempting to stay in the shower longer and indulge himself in a little Stiles time to help him relax, but he decided against it. It would be just his luck that Derek would come back and catch him jerking off. Talk about embarrassing. Even if he kept it quiet, there was always the chance he'd still be overheard. Oh, god, and they could _smell_ it, too, couldn't they? Scott used to complain about the smell in his room sometimes if he came over right after Stiles time. Stiles was suddenly seeing a distinct disadvantage to being in a house full of werewolves.

He stepped out on the bath mat and quickly dried off with one of the thick towels hanging on the rack. He slipped into his briefs and then pulled on the soft flannel pajama pants and t-shirt he'd brought to sleep in. Brushing his teeth and flossing took just a few minutes, and Stiles studied his face critically in the mirror for a moment to make sure he didn't have any zits coming up or anything. Deciding he passed inspection for the night he gathered up his dirty clothes to toss into the hamper and padded barefoot to go back to the bedroom.

Even though he'd known Derek was returning soon, Stiles nearly jumped out of his skin when he walked into the room to discover his Dom lounging across the huge bed, reading a book and wearing nothing but a pair of black briefs that left nothing to the imagination. His heart beat a rapid tattoo against his ribcage and his mouth felt suddenly dry. He stared for just a moment, nearly dropping the armload of dirty clothes in his distraction before catching himself and quickly depositing the clothes in the hamper. Stiles licked his lips nervously. They hadn't talked about bedtime rituals or anything yet, but he didn't think he should just climb into the bed with Derek. Standing awkwardly and staring didn't seem like much of an option either. An idea came to him, and Stiles inwardly crossed his fingers that the instinct flooding him was right. He walked quietly to the bed near Derek's head and dropped to his knees, looking down at the floor.

_"Sir,"_ he said, his voice just above a whisper as he waited breathlessly for his Dom to respond.

* * *

Derek tightened his fingers on the book he held. He could smell the clean scent of soap and still damp hair mixed in with the slightly sharper scent of anxiousness. He could hear the rapid thud of Stiles' heart and knew he was nervous. Derek was determined to put his submissive at ease, even if it killed him. When he had caught the scent of arousal coming from Stiles earlier it had taken nearly all his control not to shift on the spot. He was pretty sure he had at least dented the wooden doorframe, if not cracked it. Peter would either be aggravated or amused over the damage; Derek had a feeling it would be the latter and he probably would never live it down.

Derek knew Stiles had been surprised to be left alone for his shower, but he had needed to put some distance between them. He had gone downstairs and had a glass of ice water to cool himself down. The scent of Stiles was driving him insane, especially now that his own scent was mixed in with it. Maybe it was the claim happening in close proximity to the full moon, but Derek had decided that a long workout or run through the woods, maybe both, would be in order tomorrow while Stiles was at school. After their claiming ceremony tomorrow evening, Stiles would officially be his and he would need to be in perfect control to begin teaching his young submissive how to please him without traumatizing him.

This had never been a problem for Derek before. He was always in perfect control, his wolf always well in check when he played with a sub. This burning _need_, the _demand_ of his wolf so close to the surface was something unfamiliar, and Derek was thrown off kilter by it. He had no explanation for it, and that unsettled him.

Derek had had a moment of anxiety when he brought Stiles to his-_their_-room. It was nondescript and plain, no decoration of any sort. Kate had always mocked his taste as stodgy and boring, and for a terrifying moment, he had wondered if Stiles would feel the same. He knew Stiles had looked around the room. He had seen the laptop set up on the desk, saw the phone plugged in, smelled where Stiles had touched some of his clothing. Rather than being annoyed over the intrusion, though, Derek was surprised at how much this actually pleased him.

Now his submissive was there, kneeling in perfect posture as he waited to be acknowledged, scrubbed clean and smelling incredible, yet all wrong because he didn't smell like Derek anymore. This was not acceptable at all.

Derek sat up and closed his book, not caring that he lost his place. It wasn't like he'd paid attention to anything on the page from the moment he'd heard the shower shut off, anyway. He tossed it on the nightstand on his side of the bed and pulled the covers back to lie down under them. He held them up and patted the space next to him.

"Come to bed," Derek said, voice gentle but firm. He watched as Stiles swallowed nervously before rising to his feet and climbing into the bed next to him. Derek twisted to turn off the lamp and then turned back to arrange the sheet and comforter over them both. Stiles lay stiffly on his back next to him, breathing shallow and quick and heartbeat a rapid thud in Derek's ears. He placed a hand on Stiles' stomach and felt it jump and clench under his touch. Stiles inhaled sharply and Derek nearly withdrew his hand. But no. Stiles needed to get used to being in bed with him, needed to become familiar with his touch.

"Relax. I'm not going to ravish you," Derek said blandly, keeping his hand still instead of rubbing the taut stomach under his hand. He resisted the urge to reach under the t-shirt and slide his hand along that warm, smooth skin.

At least he tried to. But then Stiles whispered breathlessly, "You're not?" A note of disappointment was clear in his tone, and Derek nearly groaned out loud. He hadn't been to a sub club in weeks and domination was coursing through him, demanding to be released and even stronger in such close proximity to a submissive his body recognized as his own. He slid his hand across Stiles' stomach and gave a tug to indicate where he wanted him to move.

"Move onto your side," Derek all but growled. Stiles quickly obeyed and rolled over so that his back was to his Dom. Derek wrapped his arm around Stiles' waist and pulled him back so that he was flush against him. He leaned into Stiles' neck and rubbed his face against the sensitive skin, rumbling with satisfaction as his submissive once again began to smell like a mixture of the two of them. His hand worked its way under the soft cotton of Stiles' t-shirt and Derek ran his fingers lightly across bare skin. It was just as warm as he had imagined and he smiled as he heard a soft gasp escape Stiles, and his heartbeat sped up even more. There was a soft trail of hair below Stiles' belly button that disappeared into the flannel pajama pants and Derek wanted to follow it with his tongue. He contented himself instead with tracing his fingers teasingly around the indentation of navel before lightly running them down to the waistband of the pants and back.

Even in the dark with just a hint of moonlight to illuminate the room, Derek's super senses took over and he could hear the hitch in Stiles' breathing. He could see Stiles was biting his lush lower lip, worrying at it with his teeth until it was plump and red, and Derek was torn between wanting to hear the delicious noises he knew Stiles must be holding back and covering those lips with his own and swallowing them instead. His pretty boy was blushing hotly and the dark flush of his skin ran down his neck to hide under the shirt he wore. Derek wondered just how far down that flush went. He wouldn't find out, not tonight when they weren't officially claimed, but he promised himself that tomorrow he would follow that blush across those cheeks and down that neck with his tongue and would trace it down as far as it would go.

The sweet and spicy scent of arousal coming from Stiles was growing stronger and Derek's cock, which had been half hard since Stiles had dropped to his knees next to the bed, hardened fully in response, straining against the tight fit of his briefs. He could feel Stiles trembling in his arms with the effort to stay still under his questing hands and ground against him lightly, causing him to jerk in his arms. Derek made a soft shushing noise as he soothingly nuzzled the sensitive patch of skin below Stiles' ear and pressed his lips lightly to his neck before opening his mouth and sucking gently until he felt the blood rising to the surface. The mark he left wasn't quite as dark as he would have liked, but pleased him nonetheless. It would still be there tomorrow when Stiles went to school, and everyone would know he was off limits. That he belonged to someone.

Derek suddenly couldn't wait to have Stiles wearing his cuff. They would go right after school to pick them out so they would have them for the claiming ceremony, and tomorrow night he would have Stiles kneel for him wearing nothing but the symbol of Derek's claim on him. His cock gave a hard twitch at the image in his head.

When Stiles moaned softly, Derek closed his eyes to keep his control. When Stiles ground back against him, he nearly lost it. He _wanted_. He wanted so much to show Stiles the mysteries of his body, how to give and receive pleasure. It would be so easy. His body thrummed with dominance like electricity and he knew that all it would take was a word from him and Stiles would do anything he commanded. His boy would be receptive, so eager to please and oh, so willing.

No. Derek wouldn't do that, he wouldn't command Stiles outside their official claim. He could control himself.

_He could._

* * *

Stiles lay as quietly as he could. He could feel the heat from the muscled wall of Derek's bare chest against his back, but that heat was nothing to the hot and hard bulge he felt pressing against his ass. His Dom's fingers were still lightly running up and down his happy trail and Stiles could feel the throb in his neck where Derek had sucked a hickey. It was driving him crazy. He was hard and he wanted...he didn't _know_ what. He had never done this before, and judging by all the porn he'd watched, by this point he was supposed to be getting fucked into the mattress, or at least getting rimmed or fingered or _something_. Derek's restraint was both a bit of a relief and a source of confusion.

Finally, Stiles had to say something. He had to _know_. "Sir?" he asked softly, his voice just a little shaky. He nearly whimpered in protest when Derek's fingers stopped stroking his belly.

"Yes?" Derek answered him. His voice sounded steady, and if it weren't for the hard erection throbbing against his ass, Stiles would think Derek was completely unmoved by the entire situation.

"Am I doing something wrong?" Stiles asked. He waited fearfully for the answer, sure there must be something. He didn't want to mess up, he wanted to be a good boy.

Derek leaned up on one elbow so he could look down at him. "No, of course not. Why do you ask?"

Stiles shrugged one shoulder, feeling embarrassed. "You aren't touching me. I mean, you _are_ touching me, but I guess I just thought...never mind, I must be more tired than I thought." _Shut up, Stiles!_ he thought miserably. He settled back against Derek and closed his eyes. "Good night, Sir."

* * *

Derek felt the sizzle of dominance run up his spine and felt his cock throb in response. So his boy wanted him to _touch_ him. Derek could most certainly oblige. He wouldn't take Stiles tonight, but that didn't mean he couldn't take a small taste of the the sweet promise he held. Stiles was his, and there was no reason he couldn't start getting him used to touching and being touched, to feeling good. They both wanted it. Their bodies fit together perfectly as though they were made for each other, like two matching puzzle pieces.

Derek moved to lay back down flush behind Stiles. He put his hand back on Stiles' stomach where he had rucked the shirt up before and began stroking the warm skin again. Only this time, instead of stopping at the waist of the pajama pants, he worked his hand under them to toy with the waistband of the briefs Stiles wore. His boy jerked in surprise and Derek whispered, "Easy now."

"Easy for you to say," Stiles retorted and Derek chuckled. He stayed where he was for a moment, just running his fingers lightly under the elastic and out again as he nuzzled below Stiles' ear before tracing his lips teasingly along the edge of the delicate skin.

"Oh my _god_," groaned Stiles, and Derek was pleased to see goosebumps rise up on his arms. He filed that little tidbit away for future reference and continued to tease at the briefs that were quickly becoming an annoyance to him and keeping him from what he wanted. He could hear the heavy pounding of Stiles' heart and could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest. This time, when he ran his fingers under Stiles' briefs he kept going, moving with purpose and sliding the offending clothing down until he was holding his hard cock in his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Jesus Christ!" yelped Stiles, his entire body jerking in response. "Are you-okay, we're actually-_oh my god_," he moaned, tossing his head back against Derek's shoulder as his Dom began moving his hand.

Derek ran his hand lightly up and down Stiles' hard cock, mapping the silky soft skin from tip to base with his fingertips and back up again. It throbbed in his grasp and Derek could smell the sharp tang of precome. He ran his thumb lightly over the tip to gather the moisture there, eliciting another shivering moan from his submissive, wrapped his fist around the hard girth and began stroking. Slow and easy at first, then faster when Stiles' hips began to move of their own accord, fucking into his hand. Derek felt the stinging in his gums as his canines lengthened, and he ground his hard cock against the plush firmness of Stiles' ass. He was almost desperate for his own relief, but he wasn't going to let go of Stiles long enough to get it. He had his boy right where he wanted him; squirming, panting for breath and moaning, the soft curses and pleas music to his ears.

It was one of the sexiest things Derek had ever seen. He couldn't remember being this hot for any submissive, ever. There had been many who had satisfied his need, even pleased him, but he had never come so close to losing control of his wolf with anyone but Stiles. No other submissive had ever caused his teeth to lengthen or his eyes to flash their bright blue. He pressed himself closer to Stiles, grinding his hardness against him as he continued to stroke his boy's cock.

Derek could tell Stiles was getting close. His movements were becoming more erratic and his heartbeat was a rapid thud. His moans were growing louder, even though Derek could tell he was trying to hold back. That wouldn't do. There might be times he would keep Stiles quiet, but right now he wanted to hear _everything_.

"_God_, you touching me is so much more different than-" Stiles gasped.

Except that. Derek stopped grinding against Stiles and slowed his hand's movement on his cock, causing him to whine in protest. It felt like a cold weight had settled on his chest. While Derek didn't necessarily _expect_ for Stiles to be a virgin, he had been under the impression that he was. He knew from the file Peter had given him that Stiles was one of the youngest in his class, even for all that he was a brilliant student. He had come into maturity after all of his friends, and his tattooing had been less than a year ago. Relations outside of a claim were not the norm, but it wasn't unheard of for young unclaimed teens to experiment by touching each other. While it didn't change his desire to claim Stiles, Derek felt a white hot flare of jealousy that someone else had touched him like this, had heard his desperate pleas, brought him to sweet release.

"Who was it?" he growled, still stroking Stiles slowly, just enough to keep him on the brink of madness. He gave his cock a light squeeze and Stiles moaned softly.

"Who was what?" Stiles asked, sounding confused and slightly out of breath.

Derek nipped at Stiles' ear. "You said me touching you was different, who else touched you like this?" _So I can make sure they never touch you again._

Stiles' face flushed hot and Derek caught the bitter scent of embarrassment. "Shit. I said that out loud? I was thinking how different it was when you touched me instead of when I touch myself. I mean, how is it you seem to know how to touch me almost better than I do?"

Derek listened to Stiles' heartbeat and it never faltered. He was telling the truth, and Derek felt the heaviness in his chest disappear as his wolf preened in pleasure. Stiles was his, and _he_ was the one making him feel this pleasure. He was the _only_ one who had made him feel like this. He tightened his hand and began jerking Stiles at a fast pace, working him towards the edge again.

"Fuck!" Stiles gasped as Derek got him closer and closer. He threw one arm back to wrap around Derek's neck and Derek buried his face in the tender juncture where neck and shoulder met. He licked the soft surface before sucking another bruise on the pale skin, resisting the urge to bite. Stiles would have his mark visible on his neck, that was enough for now. Suddenly Stiles stiffened before arching back against Derek, and a guttural groan ripped from his throat as he came hot across Derek's hand.

Derek held Stiles for a moment, letting him catch his breath before kneeling up. He pushed at Stiles' shoulders so that he lay flat on his back and moved quickly to straddle his hips. With lightening flash movements he had Stiles' t-shirt rucked up to his armpits, exposing his toned stomach, and had his own briefs down around his thighs. Derek grunted as he jerked himself off fast and urgent, using Stiles' come to slide his hand up and down his rock hard cock. He tilted his head towards the ceiling and bared his teeth in a low growl when he came, splashing white stripes of come across his submissives' belly.

The smell of their come mingled together and Derek growled again, a low, pleased rumble. He used his come-covered hand to smear it all together over the skin of Stiles' belly, scenting him in one of the most primal ways he could. When he was satisfied that Stiles would smell of them both for days, Derek leaned down and licked slowly over his stomach, cleaning him up and savoring their taste on his tongue. When he finished, he made one final swipe with his tongue to gather the last taste as he moved up Stiles' lithe and relaxed body, slotting them together and marveling again over how well they fit together.

"You taste so good," Derek whispered before he pressed his lips to Stiles' for the first time, encouraging him to part his lips. When Stiles hesitatingly opened his mouth, Derek slid his tongue in, letting him taste the two of them. A low moan escaped from Stiles, making Derek press harder. When he felt Stiles licking back against his tongue to taste more, Derek moved his hands to the headboard of the bed, trying desperately not to claw gouges in the wood. His boy was so incredibly warm and eager, and his scent flooded all of Derek's senses. That alone was enough to drive Derek nearly to the brink of insanity.

Parting left them both dazed. They stared at each other in stunned silence. Derek ran his fingers lightly over the bruises he'd sucked onto Stiles' neck before tracing his kiss-swollen lips with his thumb.

Stiles recovered enough to speak first. "Wow," he whispered with a small grin.

Derek silently agreed. Tonight had been amazing. Suddenly he was impatient for their meeting with the magistrate. He wanted Stiles wearing his cuff and for them to have a contract in place. Tomorrow night would be even better. He rolled off of Stiles, smiling to himself when his boy protested. He pulled his briefs back into place and rearranged Stiles' clothes before lying on his side and pulling Stiles to him. A warm feeling of contentment settled in his chest when Stiles cuddled back against him and sighed happily. His dominance had been appeased, but now Derek knew a new hunger, and his body tingled with it.

"Tomorrow our claim will be official and you'll be mine," Derek whispered low into Stiles' ear. He nuzzled the soft skin below the ear, which was becoming one of his favorite spots. "Once our claim begins, all your orgasms belong to me. You won't be punished for coming without permission tonight, but from here on you won't come unless I say so."

Stiles shivered in his arms and gave a pleased hum when Derek tightened his arm around his waist. "Yes, Sir," he whispered drowsily. Derek held his submissive close, waiting for him to fall asleep in his arms before giving himself over to slumber.

For the first time in years, he didn't dream of fire.

* * *

**TBC**

**ittlebitz . tumblr . com**


	5. Chapter 5

**So. I'm still alive and look! An update! I'm incredibly apologetic at how long it took me to get this written and posted. RL has been incredibly hectic and I have had a bit of a hard time coaxing my muse. Hopefully that is a thing of the past and the next update won't take as long. Thanks for sticking with me, guys. Each person who took the time to write a review or come to my tumblr and offer encouragement, it was all so very appreciated. I love you all so much!**

**All my gratitude and affection to my brilliant beta, Sies, for all she does to keep me in line, and also to my beloved Shelley, who I should honestly just give beta cred because of the amount of time she spends brainstorming with me, reading over and suggesting ideas, and for our tumblr ask box conversations. Love you ladies so much! Sam, I hope this continues to make you happy. XOXO-**

* * *

Early morning light was beginning to fill the room when Derek felt the first tugs of wakefulness. He was hard, which wasn't unusual. What _was_ unusual was that he wasn't alone. It was the first time Derek had ever woken up with a submissive in his bed, and he was surprised that instead of awkwardness or anxiety all he felt was a bone deep sense of satisfaction that the warm body snuggled up against him smelled like _his_. He stretched slowly and carefully so as not to wake the sleeping boy wrapped around him. At some point in time during the night, Derek had moved to his back and Stiles had turned towards him in his sleep. He had his arm wrapped around Stiles, who was sleeping soundly with one arm and leg thrown across Derek, seeking the comfort and protection of his Dom even in slumber. Stiles' lips were parted slightly and his long lashes fanned his cheeks making him look almost angelic as he slept. The illusion of innocence contrasted sharply with the smattering of dark marks visible on his neck, silently proclaiming Derek's ownership. Derek's wolf preened as the Dom drank in the sight of his boy marked up and sleeping soundly in their bed.

Derek looked over at the clock on his nightstand. It was just after 6AM. It had been ages since he had slept through the entire night without being yanked awake by nightmares of the kiss of fire flicking across his skin, the taste of ash clogging his throat and the sound of mocking laughter falling from dark red lips. Derek wasn't sure if he had dreamt the night before but what he did know was that he had gotten his first good night's sleep in years. He wasn't sure why things were different, but he wasn't about to question it, choosing instead to simply be grateful for the gift he'd been given.

Derek had a few minutes before he needed to wake Stiles for school, and he was determined to savor the early morning quiet before the chaos of the morning intervened. Derek felt a pang of regret for not insisting that Stiles stay home that day so that they could spend all day in bed exploring each other, and the rumble in his chest let him know his wolf was not happy with the idea of letting the boy out of his sight either. He placated them both with the reminder that in just a few hours he would be at the magistrate with Stiles negotiating their contract, and once the claim was official he would be free to familiarize himself with every inch of his submissive at his leisure.

Stiles twitched in his sleep and mumbled something incoherent before nuzzling in closer to Derek. His left hand splayed across Derek's chest, and Derek couldn't resist gently toying with his fingers. He was finally able to look closely at the black tattoo that proclaimed Stiles to be a submissive of claimable age. The simple design was of a bird with its wings spread in flight. As he studied the mark, he could hear Stiles' heartbeat pick up and knew his submissive was waking up. Golden brown eyes flickered open sleepily, then widened as he jerked fully awake.

"Dad?" Stiles quickly leaned up and looked around in panicked confusion.

"Shhh, it's okay," soothed Derek, letting go of Stiles' hand and rubbing his back gently to calm him. He watched as Stiles rubbed his hand over his face and looked at him. Recognition and embarrassment flooded Stiles' face, and he cleared his throat nervously.

"Sorry," Stiles said sheepishly. "I didn't know where I was for a minute." The boy then seemed to realize he was bodily wrapped around Derek and the sour scent of embarrassment filled Derek's nostrils as Stiles flushed a delicate pink. "Oh, damn, I'm sorry," Stiles mumbled as he tried to extricate himself. Derek didn't like the idea of his submissive feeling anxious and unsettled so instead of releasing him he tightened his grip and held him closer.

"I really don't mind," Derek assured him quietly. He knew that touch was important to submissives, that there were times they craved it, other times where it kept them grounded and secure. He was hardly going to complain that his submissive was already turning to him for one of his basic needs and he wasn't going to allow Stiles to be embarrassed about it, either. Determined to set Stiles at ease, he took his hand again and lightly traced the tattoo. "I like this."

When the tension eased from Stiles' muscles and he snuggled a little closer, Derek mentally gave himself a pat on the back.

"It's a visual representation of my nickname, well, my _other_ nickname," Stiles chuckled. "Ptaszek. It means 'little bird' in Polish," he said softly. "It's what my mom called me when she was alive. I know everyone thinks their mom is the best mom but mine really was. She was my best friend. She's the only person who ever really _got_ me. I never had to explain anything to her, ever. It was like she always just _knew_. When she died, I wouldn't let anyone call me that anymore, not even my dad. That was hers. When I finally became of age and it was time for my tattooing, I chose this for her. To show her I would always be her good boy, her Ptaszek, even as I grew up and spread my wings." He shrugged self-consciously and huffed a small laugh.

In reply, Derek raised his own left hand from where it had been resting on Stiles' shoulder, stroking it with his thumb. Stiles twisted and ducked out from under Derek's arm and propped himself up on his elbow, settling alongside him. He took Derek's hand and studied the red design closely, eyes wide with wonder and curiosity.

"Wow," Stiles breathed. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yeah," answered Derek. "When I was ready for my tattooing, I went online to find something that was a sort of fire symbol. Given my history, the phoenix seemed fitting. Reborn in fire and rising out of the ashes, I'm not generally one for symbolism but it spoke to me in a way that nothing else did. I got this to honor the fact that I'm still here, that I survived but also so that it could serve as a memorial for what I lost and a reminder as to why. I see it every day and remember." He tightened his hand into a fist, then rolled over and sat up, turning his back to Stiles. Derek hated the sudden scent of hurt confusion coming from his submissive, but he didn't want to talk about it anymore. No doubt Stiles either remembered the story of the Hale fire, or had heard the rumors that still cropped up from time to time. It rankled him to think that his family tragedy had been reduced to fuel for the rumor mill, that everyone he passed on the street knew that because of him thinking with his dick and being stupid enough to believe in love had been the colossal fuck up that had cost him nearly everything. Derek took a quick glimpse at the clock and saw with a sense of relief that it was past time to be getting ready. He stood up and stretched before turning back to Stiles. "It's time for you to get dressed. Breakfast will be served soon."

Stiles slowly got out of bed, his movements hesitant and unsure. It was obvious he thought he had done something wrong and Derek couldn't allow his sub to take responsibility for things that were beyond his control. It wasn't Stiles' fault that Derek's past was an open wound that he had yet to heal and couldn't stand talking about. He quickly crossed around to the other side of the room and pulled Stiles to him so he could rest their foreheads against each other. He breathed in their mingled scent and rubbed his stubbled cheek against the tender curve of the boy's neck, giving into the urge to scent him even more. "You didn't do anything wrong, Stiles. My past is a sore subject for me and I'd rather not discuss it, but that has nothing to do with you. You're my good boy. You go ahead and take the bathroom, and I'll meet you downstairs in the kitchen."

The small smile Stiles gave him was still a little unsure, but his eyes were bright and clear. Derek watched him walk into the bathroom, then crossed over to the dresser and opened the top drawer. He pulled out the folded flannel shirt, t-shirt and jeans that were inside and laid them on the bed. He found the sneakers Stiles had kicked off into a corner the night before and put them on the trunk along with clean socks. Laying out the clothes for his submissive was a mundane sort of thing, but Derek found himself enjoying it and actually looking somewhat forward to when he had more wardrobe to select from. He then grabbed his own clothes and dashed down the hall to one of the guest bathrooms to answer nature's call and get dressed himself.

When Derek got downstairs, Peter was already sitting at the head of the table, forking eggs into his mouth while reading the morning paper. Erica was yawning as she poured two mugs of coffee, adding cream and sugar to them both and stirring before carrying them to the table. She put one down next to Peter and sat in the chair next to him, where her own plate was. She gave Derek a little smile of greeting as she began buttering a piece of toast. The side door opened and Boyd held it for Laura as she walked into the room, followed by a sleepy looking Isaac.

Peter took a sip of coffee and closed his eyes appreciatively. "Perfect as always, my pet," he said to Erica, stroking her neck lightly as she preened under his praise. He turned his shrewd gaze to Derek and gave him a smug smile. "Well, good morning. _You_ look well rested."

Derek grunted in reply. What happened in his bedroom wasn't anyone's business but his.

Peter took another sip of his coffee and took a moment to ruffle Isaac's curls affectionately before continuing with obvious enjoyment, "Yes, it's been _ages_ since I've seen you so relaxed. I didn't hear you up and prowling around in the middle of the night like you normally do. How very interesting."

Laura didn't say anything but watched Derek with unabashed interest. Derek was saved from saying anything when a flustered looking Stiles was shown into the dining room by a smiling house submissive. "Sorry," he said sheepishly, running a hand awkwardly through his hair and tousling it. "I got turned around."

A wave of guilt rolled over Derek. Of course Stiles wasn't familiar with the house just yet. He should have waited for him and shown him the way himself instead of leaving his submissive to his own devices. "It's okay," he said, "It's my fault for not making sure you knew where you were going. I'll be sure to give you a tour later on so you know your way around. Are you hungry?"

Stiles gave him a sunny grin. "Famished. Sir."

Derek pointedly ignored Erica's giggle and held his hand out to Stiles. "Come on, let me show you the set up. We usually do breakfast buffet style. There are the usual things; eggs, sausage, bacon, home fries, toast, you get the idea. There's also fruit, yogurt, cereal, or oatmeal, if you prefer. If there's something you want that isn't there, the kitchen can fix it. Just let me know what you want."

Derek stifled a grin as Stiles eyed the food with equal parts hunger and wonder. "Jeez, it's like being in a hotel or something!" He motioned to the stacked plates and gave Derek a shy glance. "Do you want me to fix my own, or should I tell you what I'd like or what?"

Derek felt a pleasant rush of contentment flow through him that his sub was already looking to him to provide guidance and care. His satisfaction was short-lived when he realized that he didn't know what Stiles would _like_ to eat, let alone any possible allergies he might have or any of the other little details he'd need to know in order to properly care for him. Derek frowned at his revelation. That wouldn't do at all. He would have to remedy that as soon as possible. A quick glance at Stiles showed him nervously looking down as though he thought _he_ was the reason for Derek's displeasure. He reached out and placed a gentle hand on his submissive's neck.

"It's okay," Derek reassured Stiles. "I just realized that I don't know what you'd like for breakfast, among other things. Here's what we're going to do; I want you to fix your own breakfast this morning, and we'll talk later and get to know one another a bit better. I plan to take very good care of you," he whispered as he leaned over and nuzzled Stiles' neck, re-scenting his favorite spot just below his ear and smiling when his boy gave a little shiver in response. "Hurry, though. We need to leave soon if you are going to make it to school on time."

Stiles looked at the clock and jumped when he realized how late it was getting. Erica and Isaac had already left the table and a service submissive was clearing the dirty dishes while Laura and Boyd ate and Peter feigned disinterest as he pretended to read the paper. Derek handed him a plate and watched as he quickly piled it with scrambled eggs and bacon and hurried to the table to eat. Derek filled a bowl with oatmeal and sprinkled it with cinnamon and sugar before adding a dollop of milk to it and stirring as he walked over to sit next to Stiles. They ate in silence, the only sound the scraping of utensils on glassware and the rustle of Peter's newspaper. Stiles finished his breakfast before Derek and watched while Derek finished the last of his oatmeal. When Derek placed his empty bowl on the table, Stiles stood and moved to take the dishes. Derek put a hand on his to stop him, and Stiles looked at him in confusion.

"It's okay, Stiles. The house subs will clear the table," Peter said as he stood up. "I'm sure I'll see you around school at some point. Derek, don't forget our appointment at Deaton's this afternoon."

Derek barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. As if he would possibly forget to be at the magistrate's office to legalize his claim on Stiles. He shot his uncle an irritated look and said, "I'll be taking Stiles after school to purchase our cuffs. Don't worry, we'll be on time."

Peter smirked at him. "See to it that you are." He nodded at them and walked briskly out of the room.

Laura and Boyd rose from their seats. "I should be going as well," Laura said, smiling at Boyd with affection as he handed her briefcase. "I'll see you when you get home this evening. At least say hi before you hustle up to your room to do newly-claimed things to each other, okay? Have a good day at school, Stiles. Good luck on your test." She shot Derek a wicked grin. "Don't wear yourself out too much working off steam, Der. Save some energy for tonight." She laughed when Stiles's cheeks flushed and the tips of Derek's ears turned bright red. Having successfully needled both of them, Laura blew them a kiss and walked out of the dining room with Boyd in tow.

"You are a terrible person and if I didn't like you, I really _wouldn't_ like you!" yelled Derek at her retreating figure. He huffed out an exasperated breath and turned to Stiles, trying not to get distracted by the blush still staining his cheeks. "Do you have everything you need? We really should get going." When Stiles nodded, Derek took his keys out of his pocket. "Good boy. Let's go."

Derek led Stiles to the large multi-car garage. Several vehicles were parked inside and there was a faint odor of gasoline, motor oil and car wax that permeated the place. Derek led Stiles to his black Camaro and unlocked it.

"_This_ is your car?" asked Stiles, eyes wide in surprise.

Derek arched a brow at him. "You were expecting maybe I'd be driving the FJ Cruiser over there?" he asked drily as he pointed towards a Toyota in the corner of the garage before gesturing for Stiles to get in. Once he got Stiles in the car and safely buckled up, Derek cranked the Camaro. The engine roared to life with a loud rumble that dropped to a low growl. He hit the button on his remote to open the automatic garage door and pulled out. It was not a far drive to the school, but he didn't want to chance getting caught in traffic. If he got Stiles to school late, Laura and Peter were sure to assume the worst and make obnoxious comments, and he would be dealing with them enough already as it was. Stiles cracked his window slightly and the breeze that blew in carried his scent to tease at Derek's nostrils. Derek tightened his grip on the steering wheel and wished again that he had just kept Stiles in bed all day, Harris and his stupid test be damned. Stiles tilted his head back and hummed happily, exposing the dark hickeys Derek had left on his neck and causing his wolf to growl possessively. When Stiles licked his lips, it took all of Derek's willpower not to turn the car around and drive straight home, toss Stiles over his shoulder caveman style and carry him up to their bed to show him just how masterful of a Dom he could be.

When he pulled up to the school, Derek breathed a small sigh of relief that he'd made it without losing his cool. Stiles smiled shyly at him from his seat as he gathered up his backpack.

"Well, I guess I'll see you after school. Should I meet you here?" Stiles asked as he opened the car door and moved to get out.

Instead of answering, Derek reached across the console and caught Stiles by the hand. He tugged his submissive towards him and caught his lips in a bruising, possessive kiss that left them both breathless. He ended the kiss with a little nip to Stiles's bottom lip, running his hands lightly over his boy's cheeks and neck, needing to scent him one more time before letting him get out to the car. He leaned in to touch their foreheads together, taking one last breath of their mingled scents before whispering, "Here is fine. Have a good day and be a good boy."

"Yes, sir," breathed Stiles as he clambered out of the car. He headed for the front steps of the school, stopping once to look back to smile and wave at Derek one last time before he disappeared into the crowd.

Derek took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He wiggled in the seat, moving to adjust himself where he'd gotten half hard after kissing Stiles, and put the car in drive. He needed to run or jerk off, possibly both. Turning in the direction of the Preserve, he drove quickly, needing to work off some steam. If he didn't, he was not going to make it through cuff shopping or a claiming ceremony without embarrassing himself.

* * *

Stiles walked quickly through the hallway, heading for his locker. He wasn't sure if he was more relieved or disappointed that Derek had stopped kissing him so quickly in the car. His body buzzed with the need to submit, and if Derek had just said the word, Stiles would have done anything he asked. He felt a little out of sorts and wondered if he should find Lydia. She was always able to calm him when he was on edge about anything. He opened his locker and swapped the books in his bag for the ones he would need for morning classes. Just as he slammed the door shut, an excited voice yelled his name, and he braced for impact as Scott came rushing towards him.

"Stiles!" Scott yelped happily as he threw his arms around Stiles in an affectionate hug. "Dude! How was your first night? Are you a man now?" he teased with a huge grin. Before Stiles could answer the smile slid off of Scott's face, his eyes went wide and his nostrils flared. He leaned towards Stiles and took another quick sniff and then stumbled back a couple of steps, shaking his head slightly and rubbing at his nose. He looked so much like a puppy that had had its nose swatted that Stiles had to laugh.

"Is there some sort of problem?" Stiles asked.

Scott rubbed his nose again with a rueful laugh. "It's weird smelling another wolf on you and my wolf isn't sure he likes it," Scott confessed. "I'm not saying I'm jealous or that you smell weird," he said hastily when Stiles looked affronted. "I just mean you smell _different_. You still smell like you, but also like you rolled around in another wolf's scent, and it's just gonna take a little getting used to. So um, anyway how was your first night with your Dom? Was he good to you? Is he all you hoped for? More importantly, have you shredded your V card?"

"Wow, Scott, don't hold back or anything," Stiles shot back as they walked to their first class.

"Well, your neck is covered in hickeys, and you practically reek of sex so I just figured," Scott stated cheerfully. When Stiles sputtered and flushed a deep red, he laughed. "It's cool, man, I'm really happy for you. So gimme the deets man, how was it?"

Stiles punched him in the shoulder and then winced and shook his hand. "Damn werewolves," he groused. "Maybe I'm not the kind of boy to kiss and tell? Did you ever think about that?"

"Hey, don't be embarrassed. You can tell me anything. Besides, it's only fair," protested Scott. "I told you about my first night with Allison."

"I know, I remember," groaned Stiles. "You told me in explicit and excruciating detail. Not enough brain bleach in the world, Scotty. You told me things about you I could have quite happily gone my whole life without knowing."

"And here I am, offering to let you get pay back. You think I _want_ to think about you like that? I'd rather make out with _Jackson_ than think about you getting your freak on. But you're my best friend and this is what best friends do. You don't have to tell me anything but I'm here for you if you ever have questions or just want to talk about stuff," Scott said earnestly as they took their seats in class.

Stiles couldn't help but smile at his best friend. "I know." His smile turned slightly wicked. "To answer your question, though, I'm pretty sure I'm not a virgin anymore. Like, I haven't had any penetrative sex yet, but someone's hand other than mine has touched my dick and there were orgasms involved. It was fucking awesome."

Scott swallowed and gave him a weak smile. "Well, I asked, didn't I?"

"McCall, Stilinski, I hate to interrupt your undoubtedly fascinating conversation, but if it wouldn't be too much trouble, perhaps you could turn your attention to the test that I'm passing out instead of yipping like a couple of unruly pups who need to be brought to heel," cut in Dom Harris sarcastically. "McCall, don't think that I won't get your Domme in here again. And Stilinski, you might have somehow managed to miracle your way into being claimed by one of the Hales, but don't expect that to get you any preferential treatment in _my_ class. You step so much as a _toe_ out of line and I'll have you on your knees in the corner so fast your head will spin."

Stiles and Scott both quickly spun to face the front of the class, heads ducked in apology as papers were handed out. The test began and Stiles found it was a struggle to stay focused on it. He felt strangely disconnected somehow, like he was floating in a weird sort of fog, and he couldn't understand what the problem was. He had taken his Adderall before breakfast and hadn't played with his dosage recently so he should have been fine. It was a lucky break that he knew the material well enough to get through the test and turn it in. Stiles was aware of Scott glancing at him from time to time and looking more concerned with each look. By the end of class, Stiles was jiggling his leg under his desk nervously and was beginning to break out in a light sweat.

"Are you alright? You don't look so hot. You aren't getting sick, are you?" Scott asked worriedly as they gathered their bags and walked to their next class. "Did you remember to eat breakfast?"

"Yeah, I ate," Stiles answered as nausea rolled through him. He groaned and leaned against a row of lockers. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I was fine earlier!"

"Stiles? What's wrong?" demanded Lydia. "You look like you're about to pass out." She rushed to him, pushing her way through curious onlookers with Jackson and Danny close behind her. She put a cool hand on his forehead. "You don't _feel_ feverish, but do you need to go to the nurse?"

Stiles shook his head, shivering slightly. "I don't know what the problem is, Lyds. Sorry, I mean Mistress Lydia. I was fine up until just a little while ago. Now I feel all nauseated and weird, like I'm here but not _here_. And my chest has a strange ache in it, like I can't breathe."

Lydia looked at him shrewdly. "It sounds almost like you're experiencing sub sickness."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Stiles ground out as he clutched at his stomach again.

"They'll teach you about it when you start going to new claims class," explained Lydia patiently. "I'm a bit surprised you're having this happen; it usually doesn't occur until much later in a claim when a submissive and Dominant are more attuned to each other, unless—"

"As intriguing as this all is, and with all due respect, can you just tell me what's wrong with me?" Stiles cut Lydia off, blanching as his stomach threatened to rebel.

"Sub sickness happens when a submissive doesn't get dominated over a certain amount of time," Lydia explained. "It can also happen if a submissive gets, uh, _worked up_, shall we say, and isn't dominated at that time. It's kind of common in new claims where a Dom and sub are learning each other, but like I said, it _usually_ doesn't happen until a submissive is more in tune to their Dom and their body expects a certain amount of dominance. That or…just tell me, were you dominated this morning?"

Stiles' cheeks flushed a deep red that stood out stark against the pallor that had come across him when the nausea first started. "No, but god, are you kidding me? He kissed me goodbye and that's all it takes to set me off?"

Lydia let out a relieved breath and nodded. "So that's all it is. Do you want me to take you to the nurse and have them call Derek to come Dom you?" She asked, placing her hand on Stiles neck and rubbing it lightly.

Stiles leaned into her hand, feeling a little better already just from the familiar touch. "No, let's not do that. I don't want him thinking I'm too needy or clingy or anything like that before our claim is even legal. He's being really considerate and careful not to do anything outside wrong outside of the claim. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" asked Danny in concern as Stiles pushed away from the lockers only to crumple to the floor.

"Yeah, Stilinski," Jackson chimed in. "You aren't looking so great. Like worse than usual."

"_Not now_, Jackson," snapped Lydia. "Help me get him out of the hallway." They pulled Stiles to his feet and maneuvered him into an empty classroom. He stumbled and nearly fell, wincing as another wave of nausea roiled up through his body.

"Damn it, he can't make it to the nurse's station like this. Scott, go to the front office and find the Headmaster. Tell him what's going on," Lydia instructed, waving him away. When Scott hesitated with a distressed whine, concerned for Stiles, she whirled to face him. "_Now_, Scott!" she snapped. "Stiles is in real trouble right now and he needs help! I know _what_ to do, but there's only so much I _can_ do. I know that you don't want to leave him but Stiles needs you to do this. I know that Allison is your Domme but right now I need you to follow my instructions and go get the Headmaster so he can call Derek and have him come for Stiles." Scott nodded and with a final worried glance at Stiles, he ran out of the room.

Lydia turned to Jackson and gestured to the corner. "I need you to bring me one of those kneeling pads, my sweet. Hurry, that's my good boy!" Jackson grabbed one of the cushions from the corner and tossed it on the floor. Lydia pushed Stiles towards it, muttering to herself about stubborn submissives who wouldn't call for their Dom when they needed them.

Stiles was breathing in heavy gasps, eerily similar to the panic attacks he had gone through after his mother died. His entire body shook with tremors and his skin was clammy with a cold sweat. "Kneel, Stiles," Lydia ordered in a sharp tone heavy with dominance. He obeyed immediately, dropping to his knees on the cushioned pad.

"Good boy," encouraged Lydia and Stiles' entire body convulsed as it reacted. "Now, I want you to _breathe_. Slowly, now, that's it. One, two, in, out. Now again, with me," she said, breathing in and out as she whipped off the ribbon holding her hair back and used it to tie Stiles' wrists together. The binding seemed to help calm him even more as he matched her breathing, and he finally began to relax. Lydia placed her hand on his neck and began to stroke it, letting the touch comfort and ground him.

"Danny, bring me a chair," she requested softly as Stiles closed his eyes. He was feeling exhausted and his head was hurting, but he finally felt the fog begin to clear. The ribbon around his wrists was snug but not enough to be painful, and he felt as though he was back in his own body again and not about to vibrate out of his skin. Danny brought the requested chair over for Lydia and held it steady for her to sit in. "Good boy, Danny," she praised him as she sat down and encouraged Stiles to lay his head on her knee. He did as she directed, keeping his eyes closed and enjoying the steady touch of her hand running through his hair before resuming its stroking of his neck.

Everyone jumped as door banged open and Scott came running in, followed closely by a concerned Peter. "What's going on here?" he demanded, taking in the sight that greeted him; his nephew's submissive on his knees and bound at the wrists, with his head resting on the knee of one of the school's most gifted Dommes while both of her own submissives stood protectively behind her.

"Headmaster," greeted Lydia calmly. "I'm afraid Stiles was hit with a rather nasty bout of sub sickness. He was already too far gone for us to get him to the nurse without having to carry him and possibly injure him, so we brought him in here. I got him through the worst of it, but I believe he needs his Dom."

Peter started in surprise at her words. "Sub sickness? So soon? They aren't even claimed yet. That's practically unheard of, except in cases where-" He broke off and looked thoughtful. "Well, well. How _very_ interesting," he said, more to himself than to the gathered students who were looking at him curiously, except for Lydia who gave him a knowing look. He walked over and tilted Stiles' face up gently by the chin. "Stiles? Do you think you can stand up now?" he asked.

Stiles nodded weakly. "I think so, Sir."

"That's a good boy," praised Peter as Stiles shakily pushed up from the floor, a bit awkwardly with his wrists bound. Danny stepped over to help support him and Lydia smiled at her submissive proudly. Stiles swayed a bit but was able to stand. When it was apparent that the worst was over, he looked around the room at his friends and gave them an embarrassed smile.

"Sorry, guys," Stiles said softly. "And thanks. I don't know what I would have done without all of you." His breath left him in a woosh as Scott bounded over to him and threw his arms around him tightly.

"Dude, don't do that to me _ever_ again," whispered Scott, distress still evident in his voice. He laid his head on Stiles' shoulder and the two submissives stood together, drawing comfort from each other. Stiles watched as Peter took out his phone and dialed a number.

"Derek," Peter greeted tersely when he answered. "You're needed at the school. It's Stiles."

* * *

Derek rushed around his room, struggling to tug clothes on his still damp body, droplets of water falling onto his shoulders from his barely dried hair. He had gone for a long run in the Preserve and come home to take a hot, leisurely shower where he had jerked off to the memory of Stiles' soft moans and pleas the night before and to the fantasy of having Stiles on his knees before him, those luscious pink lips wrapped around his cock. A strange ache had started in his chest, but he had felt relaxed and clearheaded as he stepped out of the shower. He had just grabbed his towel to dry off when his phone rang with Peter's ring tone. The Alpha never called him while he was working, so Derek answered the call quickly. Peter's words had set him in motion and he had tossed the towel aside, having only haphazardly dried himself off.

Derek cursed under his breath as he ran his belt through the loops of his jeans and located a pair of shoes. He thought for the hundredth time that he should have kept Stiles home with him. There was no way of knowing that Stiles would get hit with sub sickness, especially so early and before they were in any sort of routine, but Derek still felt guilty. He had his keys in hand and was getting into the Camaro when his phone rang again.

"I'm on the way, Lola," he said as he answered the call.

"Hello to you, too, and I figured you were," Laura answered him dryly. "I was calling to let you know Stiles is okay. He's in the nurse's station drinking some water and they are keeping him on his knees for the time being. Lydia did a good job of getting him through the worst. She's still with him now, but he'll feel better with you. He's been excused from classes for the rest of the day."

Derek frowned. "What do you mean, _Lydia_ got him through the worst?"

"He was in really bad shape, Der," Laura said. "I've never seen a case like it at the school, but that's probably because most of the claims here are among the students and the claimed pair aren't apart for long and are able to address needs much more quickly. He had to be dominated, and fast. There was no time for them to get him to the nurse. Lydia put him on his knees and put him through breathing exercises. They're extremely close and she told me she had helped him through panic attacks when they were younger, so she had an idea of what to do. And she kept a cool head throughout it all, which is lucky. That girl is one smart Domme. I know you don't like the idea of another Dominant tending your submissive but it had to be done."

Derek growled low in the back of his throat. He _hated_ the fact that his submissive had to be cared for by another Dominant. It set his wolf on edge and raised his hackles. "I should have kept him home with me," he said flatly. "I should have known better so I could have been there when he needed me." _What kind of Dom am I? I've had him less than a day and I've already failed him._

Laura heaved out a sigh. "Derek, you can't beat yourself up over this. You had no way of knowing he would become ill. Peter says it's extremely rare for it to happen like this. This has no bearing on your ability to be a good Dom! I know you're older and more experienced, but you have to remember this is _your_ first claim, too. There are things you learn along the way once you're in a claim. Sub Clubs don't prepare you for anything like this. There's no way for them to. He's going to be just fine, I promise, and you getting here is going to make him that much better."

Derek turned into the school entryway and parked in the staff parking lot. "I'm here," he said as he got out and locked the car behind him. "I'll be inside in just a second."

"Alright," said Laura. "I have class so I probably won't see you, but we'll talk later."

Derek hit the end button without answering and strode into the office where he quickly signed himself in and Stiles out. He nodded in response to the greeting the secretary behind the desk called out and briskly made his way to the nurse's office. When he walked in, he tensed at the sight of Stiles on his knees with his hands bound at the wrist, kneeling with his head in Lydia's lap. His eyes were closed as she ran her fingers through his hair. Jealousy snaked through him and it took all he had not to demand that she get away from his submissive. Reminding himself that she had helped Stiles in his time of need, he cleared his throat gruffly to alert them to his presence. Stiles jerked upright and Derek felt mollified somewhat by the relief in his boy's eyes when they met his.

"Derek! Sir!" Stiles said, relaxing noticeably. He looked down, kneeling with his bound hands on his knees and in perfect submissive posture. Derek felt a hot surge race through him all the way from the top of his head to the tips of his toes and back up to center in his groin. He walked over to Stiles and cupped his cheek gently, catching his breath when his boy nuzzled into his hand. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

Stiles nodded, eyes looking slightly more focused. "Yeah. Better now that you're here, Sir," he confessed.

"Good," Derek answered, keeping his hand reassuringly on his submissive. He turned to Lydia and nodded at her. "I owe you my thanks," he said gruffly. He wanted to push Stiles behind him and demand that she never touch him again, but he knew he was being irrational and that Lydia truly had done him a favor.

"Stiles is one of my best friends," Lydia stated simply as she stood up, her eyes never leaving Derek's. "I was happy to be there when he needed me." She looked at Stiles and her eyes softened for a moment before she turned back to Derek. She stepped to him and placed a hand on his arm. "Take good care of him," she entreated softly. "He has so much to offer a dominant." She gathered her things and crossed over to Stiles, who was still kneeling quietly. "Take care, Stiles. Be good," she said with a quick caress of his neck, much to Derek's displeasure. She gave Derek a brief nod before exiting the room.

Derek tamped down his irritation and jealousy. Stiles was his priority now and he needed to focus on him. He ran his thumb lightly over Stiles' lower lip, smiling when his eyes fluttered shut. "Let's get you home," he said quietly. "We can lay down for a while before lunch, and then if you're feeling better we can go cuff shopping earlier than we originally planned. Do you need me to keep your wrists bound?"

Stiles looked at his hands in surprise as though he had forgotten all about them. "No, I think I'll be okay. Honestly, I feel so much better now. My chest isn't hurting or anything. Thank you for coming to get me, I'm really sorry you had to."

Derek looked at him in surprise. "Don't be ridiculous. While we're claimed I'll always take care of you."

Stiles shifted on his feet and pinned Derek with his warm, honey colored gaze. "Okay," he whispered.

Derek pulled on the ribbon to loosen it and free Stiles' wrists. A faint outline was pressed into his skin, but it hadn't been tight enough to hurt or affect the circulation. Derek grudgingly had to admit that Lydia Martin knew what she was doing. The ribbon carried the scent of her shampoo and he looked at it with a faint hint of distaste before dropping it in the nearby trashcan. There was a hand sanitizer dispenser on the wall and he squirted some in his hand and rubbed them together briskly while he waited for Stiles to get his things together.

When Stiles was ready, Derek put a hand on the small of his back, knowing the touch of his Dom would help to keep him steady. He led Stiles out of the school and to his car. He silently opened the passenger side door and motioned for Stiles to put his bag in the backseat before helping his still shaky submissive into the car. Once he was sure Stiles was arranged comfortably in the seat, Derek buckled the seatbelt for him and shut the door. He jogged around to the drivers' side and hopped in. The sooner he got Stiles home, the better.

They rode home in silence, Derek still mentally berating himself but keeping a reassuring hand on Stiles' knee. In the close quarters of the car he became aware that not only did Stiles smell heavily of Lydia, he also smelled like another werewolf. His wolf paced restlessly in his chest at what it felt like was a challenge to his claim, but he didn't want to upset Stiles any further by giving in to his baser instincts. Forcing himself to keep his voice casual, he said, "You smell like another wolf."

Stiles chuckled weakly. "That's the second time I've heard that today."

Derek waited a moment for him to elaborate, and unable to help himself, prompted, "Is that right?"

Stiles nodded. "Yeah. My best friend Scott is a werewolf." He laughed softly before continuing. "He said this morning that I smelled like I'd been rolling around in another wolf's scent. After the sickness passed he was pretty clingy, so I'm not really surprised I smell like him now. He's more like my brother than my best friend so I'll probably smell like him a lot. He told it would take his wolf some time to get used to your scent on me so I'm guessing it's the same for you? I'm sorry if it makes you upset or uncomfortable but Scott isn't anyone to worry about. He's stupid in love with his Domme and straighter than a ruler."

Derek silently nodded as he turned the car into the Hale driveway. He pulled up to the front door and one of the house subs hurried out to meet them. Derek got out and tossed him the keys, then crossed around to open the door and help Stiles out himself.

"Come on," Derek said gently. "Let's go to our room. Just leave your bag, we'll get it later." He kept a hand on Stiles' waist as he guided him up the stairs. Once they got inside the bedroom, he guided Stiles into the bathroom and started warm water running in the Jacuzzi tub. "Go ahead and take your clothes off."

"You mean right now?" Stiles squeaked.

Derek walked over and took Stiles gently by the shoulders. "You were very sick, Stiles. A nice, warm bath will do you a world of good. We can turn on the jets and it will soothe you and relax your muscles. Don't take this the wrong way," he said wryly, "but right now you smell strongly of another dominant and another wolf, and it's early enough in our relationship that it's putting me and my wolf on edge. I'm not angry with you, but I need to get those scents off of you so I can scent you again myself. Plus right now I really need to take care of you. Will you let me do that? Do you trust me to take care of you?"

Stiles' eyes were huge in his pale face. He swallowed heavily and nodded his head jerkily. "I-yes, sir. I do. I trust you."

Derek gave him a small but pleased smile. "Thank you. Now if it will make you feel more comfortable right now, I'll turn my back this time while you strip, but I'm not leaving. You're still weak from earlier and I don't want you unattended. Having said that, you will need to get used to me seeing you without clothes. So really there's no time like the present."

It seemed that Stiles hesitated for a mere breadth of a moment, but he swallowed hard and nodded. Derek leaned against the wall and watched with open interest. He had gotten tantalizing glimpses of his submissive's body the night before, but now he could look his fill in the light of day.

Stiles moved agonizingly slow as he kicked off his shoes and socks and began removing his clothes. Were it not for the anxious pounding of his heart and the smell of nervousness coming from him, he could have been doing an unhurried tease. Derek stayed where he was, still and calm, breathing evenly. His appreciative gaze watched as the barrier of clothing disappeared, Stiles first peeling off his shirts and then tugging his jeans down and kicking his legs free, until finally bare flesh was exposed. Derek was a bit surprised as he realized just how much the baggy jeans and layers of flannel and cotton did to camouflage the strength and beauty of the boy's frame. Stiles had broad shoulders with a smoothly muscled chest and toned stomach. A dark line of hair led down from below his navel and disappeared into the briefs he still wore. Dark moles were sprinkled across his back and his cotton covered ass looked round and firm. His thighs were nicely muscled and Derek instinctively knew they would feel amazing wrapped around his waist, holding him while he thrust into his submissive.

A quick glance at the tub showed that it was ready. "I'm going to turn the water off now," Derek said so as not to startle Stiles by suddenly moving from where he'd been standing in silent admiration. He walked to the tub and turned the water off, then turned back and held a hand out to Stiles. "I'll help you in before I turn the jets on. Go ahead and take your briefs off."

Stiles bit his lower lip and looked away as he shimmied out of his briefs, the innocent sensuality nearly causing Derek to groan out loud. Seeing his submissive fully nude for the first time wasn't helping. Even Stiles' s cock was pretty, lying pink and soft between his legs and surrounded by a thatch of dark curls. Derek could see his ass in the reflection of the mirror and it was just as delightfully round as his form-fitting briefs had hinted. When Stiles placed his hand in Derek's, it took iron-clad control not to simply pull his boy to him and run his hands over every inch of newly exposed skin. A hint of Lydia's perfume wafted to him in the increasingly warm air and reminded Derek that he had a dual purpose in bathing his submissive.

"Come on, then, in you go," Derek said as he helped Stiles into the tub. Once he was in the water and reclined back, Derek hit the button to activate the jets. A pleasured sigh escaped Stiles as they massaged his body, and Derek curled his hands into fists, claws pricking at the surface of skin. Reminding himself yet again that he was an experienced dominant, he pulled a small stool to the side of the tub and rested his forearms on the edge. He watched quietly as Stiles relaxed in the bubbling water with his eyes closed, skin flushing pink from the heat and muscles slowly losing their tension. Derek almost hated to make him move, but he was feeling the need to hold his boy close to him in their bed.

"Stiles, get your hair wet for me and I'll start getting you cleaned up," Derek said as he grabbed a bottle of his own shampoo.

* * *

Stiles jumped slightly in the warm water. He had been so relaxed he had nearly dozed off. It was a pleasant surprise that he was already comfortable enough in Derek's presence that he could let his guard down completely. Sleepily opening his eyes, he looked at his Dom. Derek's eyes were framed by dark lashes and were an intense green.

"Wet your hair for me, Stiles. I don't expect to have to repeat myself," Derek said softly.

Stiles shivered and his eyelashes fluttered as submission flowed through him, as warm and soothing as the bath he relaxed in. "Yes Sir," he whispered. Ducking under the water, he thoroughly wet his hair as he was told. When he sat up and wiped the water from his face, Derek already had shampoo in his hand and was ready. His Dom rubbed his hands together and began massaging it into his wet hair in slow, steady movements, using his nimble fingers to rub gently into Stiles' scalp. A low moan of pleasure escaped from Stiles as his eyes closed again. He noticed that Derek was using his own shampoo instead of what he had brought from home, and the idea of smelling so like his Dom was a pleasing one.

When Derek stopped shampooing his hair and rinsed his hands off, Stiles ducked under water to rinse the suds from his hair. When he broke the surface of the water again, Derek was ready for him, this time with body wash. Instead of using a washcloth or loofah, his Dom had poured the soap into his hands and was again rubbing them together in order to cover both hands with it. Stiles felt Derek nudge with one elbow, urging him to lean forward, and when he obeyed, Derek started rubbing his hands slowly over the warm, wet skin. A whimper nearly escaped from Stiles' parted lips when Derek began massaging his shoulders, working out any remaining tension there before moving lower, rubbing over his spine before dipping below the surface of the water to tease at the crack of his ass before moving back up again. The bubbling jets continued to pulsate against his skin as his Dom caressed him all over, the mix of sensations tantalizing to his senses.

When Derek's hand slipped down to grasp his now hard cock, Stiles couldn't stop the moan that tumbled from his lips. His Dom teased him for the very briefest of moments before moving away to continue his ministrations elsewhere, and Stiles made a low noise of frustration. He reached down to stroke himself and jerked in surprise when a firm hand stopped him.

"No, Stiles," Derek said firmly. "I'm taking care of you. That can wait." His voice dropped to a silky whisper. "Remember, all your orgasms are going to belong to me. You won't touch yourself unless I allow it, and I'll know if you disobey me."

Stiles shivered as Derek's warm breath tickled the outer shell of his ear, and he could have sworn he felt the warm tickle of tongue teasing the delicate skin. He laid his head back again and relaxed against the slope of the tub, feeling pleasantly boneless. There was a soft sound of rustling, and Stiles cracked his eyes open a sliver to see Derek removing his clothes and dropping them to the floor to stand there in his boxer briefs.

"Okay," said Derek as he turned off the water jets. "Let's get you dried off and we'll go lay down for a while." Stiles watched quietly as Derek unstopped the tub to allow the water to run out. When his Dom offered him a hand to help him up, Stiles took it and carefully stood up. A large, soft towel dried his hair before wrapping around him, and strong arms held him close for a moment before guiding him back into the bedroom.

Stiles stood by the edge of the bed while Derek carefully dried him off with the towel. He felt loose and pliant, even though he was still half hard. When Derek nipped at his neck before nuzzling his favorite spot, Stiles hummed happily.

"Better," Derek said approvingly. "I don't smell anyone else on you now. You smell more like me."

"I like it," Stiles admitted with a soft smile. "I don't smell things the same way you do, but I do like the smell of your soap and shampoo." He tilted his head back to expose his neck and the marks he knew were there. A low rumble came from his Dom, and strong arms wrapped around him from behind as Derek began rubbing his face against his neck, his stubble scraping against the sensitive skin. Stiles relaxed back against him, content to let Derek hold him up while scenting him thoroughly. He could feel Derek's hard cock pressed against him, trapped in its confines, and it made him feel felt warm, safe and desired.

When Stiles felt Derek moving him to the edge of the bed, he complied with the unspoken order and climbed onto the bed. He lay on his side, propped up on one elbow and watched with interest as Derek moved to the foot of the bed and opened the trunk there. He appeared to be looking for something in particular as he rummaged around, finally making a grunt of satisfaction when he found what he was seeking. When he closed the trunk, Stiles saw he was holding a black satin blindfold.

"So _that's_ where you keep the fun things!" Stiles said with a grin. "I thought maybe you kept everything in a toy room or something."

Derek raised an eyebrow at him. "You didn't think I had my own personal collection? The toy room is fine if we want to use it, but there are certain things I like having within close reach."

"So there _is_ a toy room? Holy shit, that's so cool! What else do you have in the trunk though?" Stiles asked.

Derek smirked at him. "That's for me to know and for you to find out as I see fit." He sat on the edge of the bed and ran one hand lightly down Stiles' side and over his hip. He then held up the blindfold in his other hand. "Do you trust me?"

Stiles nodded. He felt his submission tugging at him from deep within his core and knew without any doubt that Derek was going to take care of him. He closed his eyes and sighed softly when he felt the cool satin against his skin. The blindfold was tied snugly but not to the point of being uncomfortable. He felt Derek's hands arranging him on the pillows and wrapping him up in a soft blanket so that his arms were close against his chest. Within just a short moment the bed sunk behind him as Derek climbed on the bed and a muscular arm wrapped around him to pull him back against an equally muscular chest. The touch of his Dom was reassuring and made him feel secure even as he floated in a pleasantly warm and lazy haze.

"Sleep is what you need right now," Derek's words were spoken directly into his ear, his voice low and comforting. "I'm right here and I'll be here when you wake up. I promise."

* * *

**TBC**

**ittlebitz . tumblr . com**


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